


Geborgenheit

by icefrosty



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Depression, Dissociative Identity Disorder, Gore, Grief/Mourning, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mental Institutions, Multi, Outlast: Whistleblower, Separation Anxiety, Sexual Content, Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-04-20 00:32:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 35,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4766813
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icefrosty/pseuds/icefrosty
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Exiting the vehicle, bag of belongings slung over his shoulder, Alexander looked up at the asylum’s looming brick face. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if struggling to smile.</p><p>This was his last stop.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Welcome

As the car turned the corner Alexander finally saw the building he had previously only glimpsed from a distance. Its two Romanesque towers pierced the thunderous clouds which cloaked the night sky. Occasionally flashes of light, like volatile fireflies, would illuminate it. Like a monster lurching out from the shadows, Mount Massive Asylum revealed itself, its Redstone brick seeming to ripple with each lightning flash, as if it were breathing.

‘Good thing that storm didn’t hit,’ his driver said.

Alexander stared up at the windows where the lights glimmered and thought, _too bad_.

His driver was a member of staff at the asylum, transporting Alexander on behalf of his maternal aunt, who had made the application for him to be sent to the place. There was no way for the two of them to be near one another, and so it was decided that the asylum send some poor, tired bastard to do the pick-up on her behalf.

Alex heard the man clear his throat. It didn’t matter. They wouldn’t be seeing each other again, and besides that, really, the driver didn’t care. Not about the storm and not about cheering his passenger up either. The driver fell quiet again, puncturing the air with the occasional mutter. He wanted small talk to make the night pass quicker, to feel like his job had been worth doing, and that he had done it while being a good boy.

Alexander Kolm watched as his driver parked, got out and opened his door. The man’s face was unsmiling, darkened by shadow.

‘Last stop, kid,’ he said.

A few years ago, Alex might have remarked, with equal coldness, that this had been their one and only stop. 

But Alex did not care.

Exiting the vehicle, bag of belongings slung over his shoulder, he looked up at the asylum’s looming brick face. The corners of his mouth twitched, as if struggling to smile.

This was his last stop.

* * *

A consultant psychiatrist was waiting for him in the lobby. One of the lights had been switched off, casting the upper hallways in shadow. While the exterior of the building was a little more extravagant in style, the interior was cold, hard efficiency, with no room for delicate flourishes.

A security guard typed at his front desk, and in several rooms to the left, employees worked at their computers, yawning and taking swigs of coffee to pull themselves through the night. The psychiatrist knocked on the desk, and the guard jumped up, noticing Alex for the first time before approaching and searching his bag for anything untoward.

With the guard satisfied and back at his station, the psychiatrist, dressed in a navy collared shirt, tie and grey slacks, approached. He didn’t seem bothered by Alexander’s lack of attention.

‘It’s a pleasure to meet you,’ he said, holding out a hand. ‘I'm Doctor Felix Ford, but you can call me Felix, if you like.’

Alex took the hand and shook it.

Doctor Ford smiled wider and motioned for the young man to follow him. Alex was taken into one of the computer rooms, where they passed bleary-eyed employees and entered a storage room where filing cabinets and rows of boxes of paperwork mounted high.

As they walked, turning a right into a corridor Ford went on in the same upbeat manner, the kind that made Alexander think of the saccharine smiles of people who thought they cared and wanted other people to think so too.

‘I will be carrying out the first part of your examination this evening, in which you and I will have a chat – not a very long one, I know it’s late, I apologise,’ he added, chuckling. ‘After that you will meet our warden. He’ll give you a briefing of how things work around here, welcome you, all that. And tomorrow my colleague will take over for me. How does that sound?’

Alex was silent.

‘In any case,’ Ford continued as they passed door after door, ‘our job is to assess you so we know you’re fit to be here.’

 _Oh yes,_ Alexander thought bitterly, _fit and insane._

‘Here we are,’ Ford said, stopping before a door with his name etched into a brass plate on it.

Bidding Alex to take a seat, the two men sat opposite each other in comfy office chairs. Ford sat with a clipboard and pen in his lap, legs crossed, relaxed and smiling like a friend before he stabs you in the back.

‘Please don’t mind me, talk however you want and whatever you want.’

Outside the curtained window, thunder rumbled over the asylum. Anger from the mountains.

‘So, Alex,’ the doctor began, ‘do you mind if I call you Alex?’

‘No,’ Alex replied, arms and legs rigidly crossed. He opened his mouth again, but stopped himself.

Ford smiled encouragingly, or rather, gave the appearance of being encouraging.

‘It’s OK, you don’t have to hold back, unless of course it would make you uncomfortable.’

Alex looked the doctor in the eye, took a breath.

‘You can call me whatever you want,’ he said. ‘It doesn’t matter.’

Ford looked surprised. It seemed as if he wasn’t used to honesty from potential patients.

‘Why do you say that?’ he asked.

Alex closed his eyes, and the memories rose to the surface.

* * *

It didn’t take long for Alex to tell Ford everything. It was easy to lay his soul naked and cowering before the doctor because for the past year, that was all Alex had been doing, mostly when he lay awake and alone and afraid at night, sobbing.

He couldn’t finish, the tears kept coming. No matter how hard he pressed his fingers into his face, his eyes, they flowed. Sobs choked him, wracked him; turned him into a big quivering baby. The thoughts that had played on an endless loop for more than a year screamed in his head.

_What do I do? Dad… Dad, what do I DO?_

His brain hurt, his throat hurt. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t think about anything else but the pain. It was strangling him, and he wanted it to win.

 _Oh God, Daddy,_ _Daddy_ , _Achim_ , _I’m sorry, I love you…_

Ford had stopped and was speaking to him, shaking him. The earlier patience in his voice was wearing thin.

‘Get a grip, Alex. Come on, wipe your eyes…’

‘That's enough, Ford,’ said a new voice. ‘Can’t you see he is in no state to speak?’

Alex blinked away tears to glimpse this new speaker.

He was standing in the doorway looking in, a small, frigid figure with one hand resting on the hilt of a sheathed sword on his hip.

‘Warden,’ Ford managed, sliding back into his chair like a schoolboy. ‘I’m sorry, I just—’

‘You were losing patience,' interrupted the man. 'I understand. After I have escorted Mr Kolm, I want you in my office.’

‘But—’

‘But?’

Ford’s closed mouth quivered slightly, suppressing words of hatred as the small man stared him down like a giant.

Alex watched in awe as the warden turned his gaze onto him. The man's dark brown eyes were more akin to glass, and as he gave a nod, Alex thought he saw red flash in them.

‘I apologise for my subordinate’s rudeness,' said the warden. 'I understand you are upset, but it is important for you to get some rest, especially after such a long journey.’ He turned on the contrite doctor doing his best to look contrite. ‘The doctor was wrong to probe you at such an hour.’

Ford gathered what dignity he had left and stood.

‘Respectfully, sir—’

The warden raised a hand, silencing him.

‘I will hear you after Mr Kolm is safely in bed.’

The doctor set his jaw, and the two men stared at one another, hostility simmering in the air.

Alex held his trembling body and tried to swallow.

Ford sighed, helping the new arrival up under the warden's watchful eye. Alex wobbled a little, but managed to find his footing and make his way to the door without aid. He felt sick, and he wanted to get as far away from Ford as possible.

The warden stepped aside, watching him. 

‘I will take over from here,' he told Ford. 'You can wait in my office. Give me the key to Mr Kolm’s room.’

The look on the doctor’s face was priceless. You’d think his human rights had been violated.

The warden tapped his foot.

‘Dr Ford, I do hate repeating myself.’ 

With a face like thunder, Ford handed over a brass key. The warden took it.

‘I will be with you shortly.’

They were done. Turning on his heel, the warden made his way up the corridor.

Alex followed, residual tremors and twitches running up his spine and up his arms and legs. He heard Ford behind him, but soon the doctor turned and disappeared inside a room that was the warden’s office.

Alex could breathe easier now, and as he and his overseer made their way through corridor after corridor, he got a better look at the man who had saved him from meltdown.

He had thought the man strange to begin with, the way he had appeared, like a spectre, at the doorway, but now he had a better view it was difficult to believe this was the warden of a mental institution for unstable and often dangerous criminals. For one, Alex towered a good ten, eleven inches above the man. Wearing a single-breasted, high collar white shirt, tight pants and knee-high black boots, the man wouldn’t look out of place in a naval parade. His hair, inky-black, was scraped up in a tight bun under a white kepi.

On top of this, the warden looked barely older than Alex. Since when did asylums have wardens anyway?

Alex lowered his gaze. What did it matter?

An orderly shuffled by, head bowed, as if ashamed.

‘I will be sure to correct my subordinate for his actions,’ the warden said suddenly. Alex noticed that the walls had lost their paint, now naked brick, laying bare their age. The smell in the air had changed too; rank and sickly.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, voice hoarse. ‘It really doesn’t. I’m fine.’

The warden was silent and Alex wished he hadn’t said anything.

‘To you, perhaps not.'

Alex did not know what to say, and so settled with silence as thunder rolled overhead. As the noise died, the warden changed the subject.

‘This is the Male Ward,’ he said. ‘We separate the sexes here at Mount Massive, but I should mention we have not housed women here for a long time.’

They had come to a long corridor of doors on either side, just one of many they had passed. It had begun to rain hard, and the rumbling thunder was never far behind.

A whine like that of a wounded animal came from inside one of the rooms, and Alex heard sobs before another thunderclap drowned them out.

The warden stopped at the door numbered 266.

‘This will be your room, at least for the next twenty-four hours, until your examination is completed. If you are deemed unfit to be housed here, you will be released immediately. Do you have any other questions?’

Alex looked at the door’s grey surface and shook his head.

‘No, sir.’

‘You may call me Warden,’ the warden said.

‘Call me Alex,’ Alex returned.

The warden nodded.

‘Very well. Did you bring any medication with you, Alex?’

‘No, sir.’

‘I see. Now, your room.’

The warden placed the key in the lock and opened the door, stepping to one side to allow Alex in first.

It was a cell. A bed in one corner, toilet in the other, and a mirror – that was all. The walls were painted a watery grey, faded with age, the paint cracked and peeling badly. Former patients had scratched their names into the walls in clusters, as if fighting with one another to have their voice heard. Alex could smell piss. The bed’s mattress looked the likely source; large putrid stains dotted its worn fabric. The bundle of sheets at the foot of the bed didn’t look too warm and welcoming either. There no windows.

Standing surrounded by grey peeling walls, stained and cut by the hands of former occupants, Alex felt his skin crawl.

‘I apologise for the unsightly state,’ the warden said, frowning. ‘I will speak with the cleaners.’

‘It doesn’t matter, warden,’ Alex said, depositing his bag on the end of the bed and sitting down next to it, staring at the writing on the wall opposite.

 _Did these men leave this room alive_ , he wondered, _or in a coffin?_

The warden stared at him with his cold, dead eyes.

‘There will be people making rounds during the night, so if you need anything or feel troubled, there will always be someone to call on.’

Alex nodded.

‘Thank you, warden.’

‘Is there anything you need? Do you have any questions?’

‘No, thank you.’

The warden lingered a moment more before stepping out.

‘Very well. Goodnight, Alex.’

He closed the door. Alex had to concentrate hard to hear his quiet footfalls fading into the distance. Thunder clapped and swallowed them up.

Now he was alone, fatigue drew its heavy cloak over him, and Alex lay down on the mattress, not bothering to pull the sheets over himself. He shivered.

 _So this is where I’m going to die_ , he thought. _A shithole for a piece of shit._

The words of the forgotten patients of cell 266 began to blur, mingle and lose all meaning. The sobs and murmurs of frightened patients also gradually faded away with the thunder, the rain, and the world itself.

_Achim, Dad. I’m coming to see you soon._

_Goodnight._

_I love you._


	2. Subject: Insubordination

From: warden@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: Insubordination

Mr Walsh,

I would like inquire as to the actions of Doctor Felix Ford regarding Mr Alexander Kolm, who is currently undergoing examination for admission. Following his aunt’s application for his involuntary admission, I received an email from Mr Kolm’s psychiatrist, Doctor Gregory, requesting that the examination be postponed until a later date.

He stressed that, after what would be a three-hour trip to Mount Massive, coupled with the upheaval following the incident which led to the application of involuntary admission, an interview would dangerous; not only for Mr Kolm, but for the man interviewing him. Doctor Gregory provided notes of his consultations with Mr Kolm to further emphasize that his patient does not respond well to interviews, particularly while under stress.

Please find attached a copy of the email I sent to Doctor Ford prior to Mr Kolm’s arrival, instructing him to postpone his examination until the following day. Please also find attached Doctor Ford’s reply accepting them.

I would very much like to know who gave Doctor Ford leave to ignore my orders.

A vulnerable man in our care was on the brink of meltdown. It was by luck that I was in my office at the time and intercepted the situation before it got out of hand. I would not like to imagine the damage had I been absent. I have reprimanded Doctor Ford appropriately.

Regards,

Warden

* * *

  _NOTE to all caretaker personnel from WARDEN,_

_Escorting recent arrival Mr Alexander Kolm to his temporary room (266), I was greeted by unacceptable levels of filth and untidiness that leads one to wonder if any of you have ever set foot on the ward before, or if you actively sought to increase the atrocious state of it._

_This is unacceptable, and will not be tolerated. Apparently my previous warning failed to register in your heads. My patients are afflicted enough without adding disease and vermin to their list of trials. Shit stains on the mattress, on the floor! This is not a medieval dungeon we’re running here!_

_I order every one of you to commence a thorough clean-up of the Male Ward, rooms and all. If all of you wish to continue your employment here, I suggest you start now._

* * *

From: p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: warden@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: RE: Insubordination   

Warden,

Your complaint is being processed. For the time being, ensure that Alexander Kolm's examination goes ahead as normal. 

Regards,

Phillip Walsh

_Chair, Department of Psychiatry_

_Murkoff Psychiatric Systems_


	3. Simon

His admission had been accepted. Alex was now an official, formal patient of Mount Massive. The monster had swallowed him whole, and Alex was sliding down its gullet with a smile.

He had glimpsed the warden several times after their first encounter, but always at a distance. Alex could feel the chill of the warden’s icy gaze on him when his back was turned. It was difficult to believe that this was the same person who had helped him a few days earlier.

Had it been days? Or weeks? Time seemed to move along at the same pace. There was lunchtime, there was medicine time, there was therapy time, and so on. Everyone shuffled along in long queues of brown like animals to the slaughter. Yes nurse, thank you nurse, or so help you God. The clocks on the walls served only as a ghostly reminder of the days when the progress of their hands meant something different to everyone. And yet there existed a chasm separating the patients of Mount Massive that no clock could fix, and nowhere was this divide more evident than in places where patients gathered.

The cafeteria was one. On one side patients gathered in tight, secretive groups and whispered to one another, as if they feared someone might be listening. They played cards, drew pictures, gestured, cursed, laughed, did all they could to keep alive what made them people.

On the other side sat men who looked more like corpses. Men with scars etched deep and red upon their heads, faces and arms. Stains that gave only a glimpse of the damage inside. They sat and stared like old men, some with their heads hanging slackly on their chests, waiting for the dark to come and take them away. Impatient staff would impatiently spoon food into their open mouths and curse as it dribbled down their chins.

Alex was not interested in eating. He looked around for an orderly and, spotting one, asked for directions to the recreation area. He had visited the place a few times before, but always needed direction. He had far more important things to remember.

* * *

Soon he was out in the fresh air of the courtyard, the mid-afternoon sun shining brightly on the mountainous land in which the asylum was carefully nestled. Several patients were dotted about, occupied with their own activities. As Alex passed the basketball court, he saw two patients engaged in a silent game of pass-the-ball.

Finding an empty bench, he sat down, absently scratching his left arm. He now wore the same itchy burlap jumpsuit as the rest of the patients; he was one of the boys, just another face in the crowd. Well, aside from having so far held on to his cropped russet-brown hair where most patients were bald. All his newcomer status had earned him so far was sideways glances and whispers.

This suited him just fine.

Earlier in the day he had requested a notepad and pen, but both had been denied to him.

When asked why, and the male nurse smiled sweetly and replied:

‘We wouldn’t want you to hurt yourself, Alex.’

 _Don’t flatter yourself,_ Alex thought bitterly. _I’m dying slow._

The sound of a ball bouncing on concrete snapped him back to reality. Looking, he saw the two patients had lost their ball and were hurrying after it.

Conscious of his surroundings once more, Alex noticed, in the corner of the fenced area, the warden and a patient standing together, talking.

It seemed that, for all that the warden preferred to keep to himself, he wasn’t above speaking to his patients. He had his sword at his hip, as always. Alex didn’t know what to think about that. It was an odd choice of intimidation, but it suited such an odd man. And yet there was something strangely feminine about him, too. Whether it was the face or the voice, he couldn’t say, not without another meeting.

Alex shook his head, smirking despite himself.

_Perhaps he’s a high-functioning patient?_

The patient in question was wringing his hands, hunched, attending nervously to the small overseer before whispering fretfully in response. Alex thought he saw the patient look at him. It was so quick, he thought he’d imagined it, but moments later the patient glanced over again.

The patient saw him and shrunk away. The warden touched the patient’s arm, said a few words, and left.

Alex watched his small white-clad figure strode across the courtyard and into the asylum.

The patient stared after him like a lost child, stroking his hand for comfort.

Another patient shuffled over and they whispered to one another, snatching nervous glances.

Alex felt as if he were watching a movie, in which the cast were aware of their sole audience member. He remained seated, transfixed, interested to see what would happen next.

The fidgeting patient finally tore himself away from his friend and began to make his way towards Alex. He moved in short, terrified steps, as if he feared the ground would give way beneath him.

Alex pretended not to notice him, staring at the forests stretching out down the mountain.

Finally, he heard the footsteps stop, and a small, shy voice stammered:

‘H-hello.’

Alex looked up.

The patient’s mouth stretched into a smile, but his eyes, deep brown in colour, were filled with silent panic. His face was smooth, tapered, with a certain boyish quality. Alex could not hold back a frown as he noticed scars etched on the corners of the patient’s mouth and around the upper part of his head, completing the circle on the bridge of his nose. A small scar cut through his one thick black eyebrow.

The patient became conscious of Alex’s gaze and stared at his shoes.

‘I… I just thought I’d come over,’ he mumbled. 

If Alex was honest, he didn’t want to talk, but the idea of shooing the patient away left a bad taste in his mouth. 

He shifted to one side.

‘It’s fine. You can sit down if you’d like.’

The patient stared, amazed, and a wide smile spread across his face.

He took a step forward, then stopped. He fumbled shyly for a moment before holding out a hand.

‘I-I’m Simon. Simon Bailey.’

Alex shook hands. _I’ve dug my own grave._

‘Alex Kolm.’

Simon wasted no time sitting down, his nervous energy manifesting as bashful excitement.

‘The warden – the warden knows how I am and he said I should just go for it,’ he gushed. ‘W-well, he didn’t say it like that, but…’

He laughed shakily.

When Alex didn’t respond, he asked:

‘Have you spoken to the warden yet?’

‘Yes,’ Alex replied, adding, to avoid further questions, ‘when I first arrived here. It was during my examination. I… didn’t take it well. Anyway, the warden heard me from his office and he came over.’

Simon’s smile faded, and he looked at Alex with such concern it was baffling. The patient stared into his eyes as though nothing in the world mattered but him.

‘Did the doctor hurt you?’ he asked.

‘I— no,’ he began, ‘not intentionally, at least…’

The look in Simon’s eyes was unreal. _What is this guy’s problem? Why does he…_

‘I just got a little emotional, that’s all.’

Simon did not look convinced. 

 _Does he know something I don’t?_ Alex thought impatiently. _Was he there?_

The other patient seemed to notice he was pushing his luck and shrunk back, crestfallen.

‘And the warden helped?’ he ventured, eyes hopeful.

Alex bit his tongue and nodded.

Simon beamed.

‘He’s so nice,’ he said. ‘I mean, you wouldn’t know it from how he looks, but he takes care of us.’

Alex didn’t know what to say. His eyes wandered over to the spot Simon and the warden had stood talking. The patient Simon had spoken to was still there, watching them from afar.

‘Oh, that’s Dennis,’ Simon said. ‘He was too shy to come over, but he said I should if I really wanted to.’

_Dennis should have minded his own business._

‘I see.’

Simon looked at him and smiled.

‘I like your accent. It’s nice. Where’re you from?’

 Alex was astonished and more than a little agitated. What was with this interest? This concern? What the hell had the warden put into this guy's head?

‘Broomfield, Colorado,’ he replied. ‘My father…’

He stopped and drew a breath. No. He couldn’t. Not now.

He sighed.

‘My father is German.’

Simon’s face was a picture of distress. He reached out and placed a hand on Alex's own.

‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you—’

‘It’s not your fault.’

Alex stood up, brushing him off.

‘I have to go.’

‘Wait—’

‘Leave me alone.’

He turned to go, but Simon clutched his arm.

‘Wait! I want to help you!’

_“Son, listen to me…”_

Alex swung round and seized the patient by the throat.

‘ _I don’t want your fucking help!’_ he screamed.‘ _Not you, not anybody! Why can’t you…_ ’

The look on Simon’s face made him stop. He snatched back his hand as if it'd been burned. The patient was trembling, tears welling in his agonised, frightened eyes.

‘P…please…’ he whispered. ‘I want to be your friend...’

Alex turned and ran. He did not know where he was going, he just had to get away from that poor, crazy, lovesick idiot. Blood pounded in his ears and his chest felt like it would explode. He wished it would. God he wished it would, so he couldn’t see Simon’s distraught face in his head. So he couldn’t hear the voice of his father trying to ease his son’s pain on his own deathbed.

His foot caught a dislodged piece of concrete and crashed to the ground, where he lay, head whirling, tasting blood on his lips. The pain welled up inside him, pushing, bursting to get out. He bit his lip, fighting it. There was nothing else for him. There was nothing else...

Simon Bailey's distraught face returned to his mind's eye. Trembling, terrified, wondering what he'd done wrong. When had caring become something so hateful to him? When had a kind word become a slur, a sympathetic touch a slap in the face?

Alex clutched his head and moaned. Perhaps it was that late afternoon as he sat by his dying father’s side.

Dad had looked at him, smiled, and grasped his hand.

_“My boy...”_

Alex punched the concrete. Fuck. _Fuck!_

Through his sobs he heard footsteps approaching him. They stopped by his side, and suddenly he felt hands attempting to coax him up. When he failed to respond, they curled around his huddled prone body and lifted him.

Alex offered no resistance. Whether those hands held him or strangled him, he didn’t care. He didn’t matter.

All at once he was drawn close to a chest and held there. Alex whimpered, and a familiar voice soothed:

‘Shh, shh. It’s OK. I’m your friend. You’re safe now…’

Alex couldn't stop himself. He cried like a baby.


	4. The Group

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are liking the story so far! The chapter soon to follow this was initially the second half of this chapter, but I thought it would work better split into two. Definitely less long-winded! Anyway, hope you enjoy!

Alex woke up the next morning and lay staring blearily up at the dull grey ceiling for several minutes. He felt the kind of drowsiness that comes from crying for so long. He sneezed, then groaned as his head spun. It could be just the crying he did, or he could be getting a bitch of a head-cold.

Sighing, Alex closed his eyes and tried to remember the events of yesterday. That lunchtime in the courtyard with the clinging, needy Simon, who wanted to be his friend. He winced as he recalled how he had grabbed the patient and screamed in his face. Rage had exploded out of him so quick and fierce it was frightening to imagine what he might have done if poor Simon had tried to detain him further.

Alex grimaced and saw his uncle lying flat out on his living room floor, bloated and bloody.

And even after all that, he thought, with a sigh, Simon had followed him to where he had collapsed in a miserable blubbering heap and held him in his arms, whispering comforts until the nurses had come along. It had taken a lot of convincing, but Simon had eventually let them take him to the infirmary to get patched up before being sent on his way again.

Alex opened his eyes. Simon. Simon Bailey. Too nice, too desperate; he could have gotten hurt.

The orderly’s booming wake-up holler rang out through the ward. Alex sighed and slowly lifted himself out of bed.

* * *

The cafeteria was busier than it had been yesterday, only because Alex had got there earlier than before. He saw a queue of patients shuffling along to the food trolley. Joining them, he kept an eye out for Simon at one of the tables.

He spotted him, sitting with two others in the far corner of the cafeteria; one he vaguely recognised as the patient Simon had spoken to the previous day, and the other, who appeared to have only half a head of hair. _  
_

‘Hey,’ grunted a patient behind him. ‘Move it.’

Alex shuffled along, keeping one eye on Simon and his group and another on the food trolley. His stomach whined, crying out for the steaming containers of wholesome loveliness (judged by his stomach). Before today the pangs had been forgotten to the darkness of his thoughts, but now, in the face of all these aromas, his body won.

Helping himself to sausages and beans, Alex scanned the rows of tables for Simon.

Good. He was still sitting with his friends.

Forcing his reluctant feet to move, Alex made his way down the aisle towards them. He stopped just short of Simon, hovering, food-laden tray in both hands, suddenly lost for words.

The patient called Dennis was the first to notice him.  

‘U-uh…’

Simon stopped in the middle of a sentence and looked. The moment he recognised Alex, his eyes grew wide.

‘Alex!’ he cried, louder than the apparent accepted volume, as several nearby patients turned around.

Alex offered a weak smile.

‘Uh, hi, Simon.’

‘Sit down, there’s a spare seat here!’ The patient patted the empty seat on his left. ‘Come join us.’

He couldn’t get distracted.

‘Sure, Simon, but first I need to tell you something.’

Simon blinked.

‘What’s up?’

Alex drew in a breath. Simon ‘went for it’ by coming to speak to him yesterday when he was terrified. It was a fitting time as any to ‘go for it’ himself.

‘I just wanted to say I’m sorry for… yesterday,’ he said.

Simon’s expression was so blank Alex thought he might not have heard, but the patient asked:

‘What do you mean?’

‘What do I—?’ Now it was Alex’s turn to be bewildered, and a little afraid. ‘I grabbed you, I screamed in your face… I made you cry. You remember that, don’t you?’

Simon’s smile faded.

‘Yeah, I remember.’ Then his smile returned; not as strong as it was, but still there. ‘You wanted me to leave you alone but I didn’t want to. That’s my problem. The warden told me…’

Alex was stunned. Struggling, he managed to find his voice.

‘Still… you only wanted to help, and I…’

‘Alex.’ Simon was smiling, looking at him the same way as he had done the afternoon before. Like nobody in the world was more important than him. ‘I forgave you yesterday. It’s OK now.’

Alex felt a lump lodge in his throat. This guy. Jesus, this guy.

Simon patted the empty seat again.

‘Sit down. Let’s all be friends.’

Alex sat. Not trusting himself to speak, he looked across the table to Simon’s two companions.

Looking at the burned patient properly for the first time, Alex saw the damage was far worse than it had appeared from a distance. The entire right side of his face had been seared a raw, pinkish colour. All that was left of his right eye was a large white ball, like the blind eyes of deep sea fish. The left side showed the man he truly was; his medium crew-cut dark hair lying flat on his head, the goatee and grim look in his brown eyes made him the oldest at least as far as looks went. Early thirties, Alex guessed.

‘I’m Alex,’ he said, extending a hand. The burned man shook it. His bare forearms displayed mismatched scars that ran down from his elbow to his wrists. From the stitches, it looked like they’d been deep.

‘Pyro,’ returned the patient, looking him straight in the eye as if to say, _Don’t hide it, you know I’m ugly._ ‘That’s what they call me here.’

Alex withdrew his hand, feeling something he couldn’t quite place.

‘OK.’

Dennis was an odd one. He had a fairly mature, oblong face. His blue eyes stared meekly out from their sockets, watching Alex with the same caution and uncertainty a child would give a stranger that had come too close. He sat hunched over his plate of food like he was unsure whether to lunge or bolt.

The patient twitched as Alex moved his hand over for him to shake.

‘You’re Dennis, right? I’m Alex. Hi.’

Dennis stared at the hand as if it was a snake.

‘Don’t worry. It won’t bite,’ Alex said, cracking a grin.

The patient looked at him again, his eyes suddenly sour and angry. Dennis hunched lower in his seat. When he opened his mouth, a slurring whine of an old man growled:

‘I don’t trust this Heinie motherfucker.’

Alex drew back his hand, glancing at Simon for an explanation, but the scarred patient only smiled.

‘Now, Gramps,' he said to Dennis, 'that’s no way to talk. Let Junior meet our new friend.’

‘He isn’t _possessed_ , Simon,’ Pyro scolded.

A sneer broke across Dennis’s lips.

‘I don’t make friends with Krauts,’ he said.

‘Dennis!’

‘It’s alright, really,’ Alex said. It was pretty clear Dennis was not in control of whatever or whoever was speaking.

‘H-h-he... j-j-just likes t-t-t-to cause t-t-trouble…’ stuttered a small, young man’s voice. Alex looked at Dennis and saw the cautious, wide-eyed look in his eyes had returned, now tinged with guilt.

‘Shut your mouth, you little cocksucker!’ an older, gruffer man’s voice snarled, Dennis’s face twisted in fury. ‘Who taught you to talk to your elders like you was worth shit?’

‘Disrespect!’ Another voice chimed in, younger, with an almost girlish inflection.

Dennis’s eyes were wide and frightened and he shrunk even smaller in his seat.

‘I-I-I-I…’

Pyro put a placating hand on the distressed patient’s shoulder.

‘Dennis, are you scared of Alex?’ he asked. ‘It’s OK. He’s a friend. He’s with us.’

Dennis sprang to his feet, rounding on him savagely.

‘ _We ain’t afraid of nobody_ ,’ he hissed in the old man’s slippery drawl, before pushing his way through the aisle and past patients towards the exit.

‘Dennis, wait!’ Simon cried, getting up.

‘Leave him,’ Pyro said.

‘But—!’

‘You know he gets worse after his treatment.’

Simon looked to Alex for support, but Alex said:

‘If you follow him, he might do something he regrets.’

The look in the scarred patient’s eyes told Alex he knew exactly what he was talking about, even if he didn’t like it. Simon sunk down into his chair, staring at his empty plate. He looked so crestfallen Alex, hesitating a moment, patted his arm. A memory of high school football matches flashed before his eyes; cheering up doleful teammates with a pat and a pep talk.

_“Next year, guys! Next year we’ll get ‘em!”_

Shaking his head, Alex turned to Pyro. Though shaken by all that had happened in such a short space of time, Alex wanted answers, and the burned man seemed the only one able and willing to give them to him.

Pyro sighed.

‘He gets shock treatment,’ he said. ‘Silent as a grave for a day or so afterwards, at most. But then his ‘family’, if you can call them that, come back, and they come back with a vengeance, until things settle back to normal.’

‘What’s “normal”?’

‘Pretty much what you just saw, but less frequently. You can get one of them talking for a little longer than when he’s like this.’

‘Jesus. So he has… multiple personalities?’

Pyro nodded grimly.

‘Yeah. I hear it’s called Dissociative Identity Disorder now.’

‘Dissociative Dennis,’ Simon muttered. ‘That’s what the others call him. But only behind his back. They don’t know who they might piss off.’

‘The old man certainly sounds like he could hurt somebody,’ Alex said, frowning.

‘Oh no,’ Simon said, ‘the grandpa isn’t the one who pulls the punches. The father is. They call him “Pa”.’

Alex shook his head. Christ Almighty. One fucked up family, all living inside a poor man’s head. Jesus.

‘What the hell’s he like right after the treatment?’ he asked.

‘Like he got the life sucked out of him,’ Simon replied thickly. There were tears in his eyes. ‘I hate it. God, I hate it. Poor Dennis…’

‘Hey, hey,’ Alex put an arm around him. ‘Look, maybe we can find him later and...’

‘No,’ Pyro said. ‘It would be dangerous, especially since most of his family don’t like you. Junior is the only one who doesn’t share their feelings, but he can never challenge the others.’

‘Junior?’

‘The one that stutters. Simon and I call him Junior, since he’s never been given a name.’

‘And how do you know he doesn’t feel the same?’

‘The stronger personalities will tear him apart if he even slightly deviates from their opinion.’ The good side of Pyro’s face was positively morose, as if the situation broke his heart just as much as it did Simon’s. ‘And you did hear Junior try to apologise for the old man, didn’t you?’

‘Well, now you mention it…’ Alex shifted a little in his seat. ‘Honestly, the others jumped in so quick I hardly registered it.’

‘They hate him,’ Simon whimpered. ‘They hate him and they never let him speak… Oh God, _why_ does he let them…’

He tried to get to his feet once again. Tears streamed down his feet, and there was a frantic, crazed look in his eye.

‘I-I’ve gotta help him… I have to…’

‘Simon, sit down!’ Pyro reached across the table to take hold of the patient’s arms. ‘You’ll only hurt him more!’

Alex tried to hold him still, but this only caused more panic.

‘Simon, please, just leave him for now…’

‘No!’ he wailed. ‘No, I can’t leave him… I can’t! Don’t you understand? He’s all alone and… he… he…’

Patients all around were looking now, and nurses were hovering close by, observing.

Alex stood up and placed his hands on the sobbing patient shoulders, staring him right in the eyes, like nothing else mattered.

‘Simon,’ he said. ‘Dennis _needs_ to be alone right now. If you go to him when he’s like this, he might hurt you. Hell, he might even hurt himself. I know you want to help, but sometimes being alone is the best help you can give. Do you understand?’

Simon stared, his scared, tear-stained face quivering. He bit his lip, shaking his head, and crumpled in Alex’s arms.

The sudden weight made Alex take a step back to support him, but he managed to keep standing. Slowly, he lowered both him and Simon down so they could sit as the patient sobbed into his shoulder.

Alex did not know what else to do but hold on and pray he hadn’t just made things ten times worse. He spied the nurses hovering nearby, whispering to one another before going on their way like nothing had happened.

Anger bubbled in Alex’s gut, different than the kind he had felt for so long. He hated them. They let him take over the duty of care they should have provided for Simon. He didn’t give a damn for himself, but Simon…

Across the table, Pyro put his face in his hands.

Alex’s lunch sat cold and forgotten on his plate. An unsmiling cafeteria worker approached and took it away without a word.

* * *

 

As the cafeteria reached closing time, the patients began to file out. Some made their own way, while others had to be told, coaxed, shooed or wheeled. Alex and Pyro helped a whimpering Simon out, passing by a disgruntled-looking cleaner scraping uneaten food from plates into a trash can, muttering.

_'Fucking... ungrateful...'_


	5. Questions

The next day was Alex’s first consultation with Dr Neil Wolfram. It took place rather inconveniently during lunchtime, so he was called out in the middle of his meal with Simon, Pyro and a somewhat calmer Dennis.

‘Mr Kolm, Doctor Wolfram will see you now,’ said a bright-eyed nurse. Her smiling face made Alex want to punch it. A _Backpfeifengesicht_ if he ever saw one.

He sighed, getting up.

‘See you guys later.’

‘You sound happy,’ Pyro remarked.

‘Yeah. Yet another doctor trying to wheedle my life story out of me. As if the others didn’t get enough.’

‘He’s a nice man,’ Simon said. ‘He really listens to you.’

Alex wondered if Simon was the kind of person who just saw the good in everybody. The patient seemed to have a fairly accurate track record going for him, but Simon had thought the same way about Alex, and look how that turned out.

He was about to move away when Simon tugged at his sleeve.

‘Oh, Doctor Wolfram’s German, Alex!’ he exclaimed. ‘Maybe you could speak German with him!’

‘Great, he can wheedle my life story out of me in German,’ Alex muttered, shuffling off to follow the nurse. Feeling a pang of guilt, he looked back, and saw Simon's crestfallen face. Alex mustered a smile and waved before disappearing through the double doors.

* * *

The nurse led him through the maze of corridors taking them back to the admin block. After a few more lefts and rights, the nurse stopped by one of the doors and knocked. An older man’s voice called out from within:

‘Come in.’

No mistaking that accent.

The nurse smiled her putridly sweet smile and left.

Alex entered and found a grey-haired, bearded man in a white coat, shirt, and tie sitting across from an empty chair in a spacious and comfortably lit room. Several shelves packed full of books lined the walls. The doctor was inspecting some notes on a clipboard balanced on his lap through horn-rimmed glasses.

As he crossed the threshold, Dr Wolfram looked up. He stood, and the two shook hands.

‘Good afternoon,’ he said, in English. _Thank Christ._ ‘My name is Neil Wolfram. I will be your consultant for the duration of your time here. Anything you wish to talk about, any problems you may be experiencing, I will always be available to discuss them with you.’

‘I appreciate it.’

‘Please take a seat.’

‘Thanks.’

Alex sat, watching as the doctor resumed his seat, taking a moment to adjust his glasses before turning his attention to his patient.

‘Now, Mr Kolm, this will be an hour-long session, as all our meetings will be. Your group therapy sessions will be a little longer, and I believe you have one later today, am I right?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Wolfram smiled. The way he smiled reminded Alex of his father. Trying to shake the image from his mind, he said:

‘You can call me Alex if you want, Doctor.’

‘I appreciate the offer, Alex,’ replied the doctor, ‘but in a professional relationship like this, where you are going to call me Doctor, I’d like to call you Mister. I hope that’s alright.’

‘Sure, no problem.’

‘Excellent.’

It was actually somewhat refreshing to hear that. Another Doctor Ford, with his big faux-happy smiles and informal chatter, was far more grating, even if it had gotten the same information out of him as Wolfram would have gotten had he been sitting in his place.

‘Well, Mr Kolm, I know that Dr Gregory referred you to the hospital because he thinks your feelings of grief are impairing you, but I would like you to tell me yourself what’s been troubling you, if you don't mind.’

_Here we go._

‘Look, Doctor, you know what I said to your colleague Ford, right?’

‘I was briefed, yes.’

‘Everything I could tell you about my feelings I told Ford. I’m not going to repeat myself.’

‘Very well, that’s fine,’ Wolfram said, in the same calm manner as before. It was clear he was far better as his job than Ford. ‘Is there anything on your mind you would like to talk about?’

Alex opened his mouth to say no, but he remembered something Simon had said to him that afternoon in the courtyard.

_"Did the doctor hurt you?"_

‘You know what happened when Ford interviewed me, right?’ he asked.

Wolfram nodded.

‘Yes, and I apologise for the distress my subordinate caused you. I assure you that he has been disciplined and it will not happen again.’

‘Oh, it’s fine,’ Alex said, waving a hand, ‘just reminded me of something else.’

Everyone he had spoken to so far, sans Ford, gave a shit about how his first interview affected him. It was Wolfram’s job to care, of course, but it had been Ford’s, too. The warden was similarly obligated by profession to care what his subordinates did to patients.

The warden’s cold, quiet gaze came back to him, and he recalled hints of anger in those strange eyes as he said: _“Mr Ford was wrong to probe you at such an hour.”_

And Simon…

‘It just reminded me of a patient I’ve talked to.’

Wolfram looked intrigued.

‘What is his name?’

‘Simon. Simon Bailey.’

‘Ah, Simon. He’s a sweet young man.’

‘Clingy as all hell though.’

‘Well, yes, he is quite. Simon has had a lot of trouble with anxiety concerning people he is attached to.’

At this Alex leaned forward slightly.

‘Anxiety? Why?’ he asked.

Wolfram smiled.

‘That can be a topic of your next conversation,’ he said. ‘If you don’t mind me asking, what have you talked about so far? Ah,’ He chuckled. ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. I should say, how did you two meet?’

_Don’t say that like it’s a date, Doc._

‘He found me, actually,’ Alex replied, lip curling. ‘The warden gave him a pep talk, I guess, and then he came over to me. Asked lots of questions, and…’

Wolfram was quietly taking notes. When Alex went quiet, the doctor looked up.

‘Please, carry on. Am I too loud?’ he asked.

‘No, no. Anyway, he asked lots of questions, about me, about my examination… Didn’t like it when I told him how it went.’

‘Could you expand on that?’

‘I mean, when I told him how I reacted to the interview, the first thing Simon did was ask if the doctor hurt me. And his eyes…’

Alex paused, sure the doctor would ask for clarification, but Wolfram merely motioned for him to continue. Looked like Doc was going to let him keep rolling.

‘His eyes were unreal. Like… like I was his everything. Like nothing else mattered. Unreal. Didn’t know whether to be creeped out or touched. He’s wasting his time, but… Anyway,’ Alex cleared his throat. ‘Then the subject touched my family, my father, and…’

He swallowed. He wasn’t sure if it was the memory of his father or how he’d blown up at Simon that was affecting him now, but Alex continued on.

‘I didn’t want to talk anymore, so I tried to leave. Simon kept hold of me, and… and I snapped. Screamed at him. Told him I didn’t want his help, or anybody else’s.’

He paused, staring at his clasped hands.

‘And then what happened?’ encouraged Wolfram.

Alex hesitated. As much as he didn't want to discuss his feelings with this man, Simon was a subject which he needed someone to talk to about. Even if that someone was a doctor. 

‘I ran,’ said Alex, grimacing, ‘as far away from him as I could get before I tripped and fell. Then I… well I… I broke down. I just… I hated myself. I can’t stop feeling the way I do. Missing them…" He swallowed. 'But I didn’t want to do that to Simon. He didn’t mean any harm; just… wanted to help me.’ He chuckled bitterly. ‘I wish I could believe that totally. I wish I could. But I can’t.’

Alex was quiet for a few moments more, the only sound being the quiet scribbling of Wolfram’s pen.

Suddenly Alex laughed a short, nasty laugh.

‘Even after I’d screamed in his face he still followed me. Found me on the floor. He… he just came over and held me like a baby…’

He looked up at Wolfram and held his gaze, feeling his eyes welling up.

‘Simon’s… such an idiot! He’s an idiot, Doctor. He wants to help everybody he calls ‘friend’, even if he can’t. He’s a fucking idiot and he’s wasting his time! Why…?’

Alex looked away, eyes stinging, throat aching. Damnit. That fucking idiot...

After giving him a moment, the doctor asked:

‘Have you spoken to him since?’

Alex sniffed.

‘Yeah. Yesterday. Apologised. He was so okay with the whole thing I thought for a second he’d forgotten…’

‘He forgave you?’

‘He did. Crazy guy.’

‘Why is he crazy?’

‘He forgave me.’

‘Well, you apologised, sincerely, I would think, and Simon, as we both know, is a very kind man. He forgives and forgets.’

‘But I don’t,’ Alex said angrily, before he could stop himself. ‘I don’t. The whole world could forgive me. God himself could give me his divine forgiveness, Doctor, and that wouldn’t change a damn thing.’

He stopped, fighting to compose himself.

‘Take as long as you like, Mr Kolm,’ said the doctor kindly. ‘You don’t have to say anything you are not comfortable with.’

Alex sighed heavily.

‘Do you want us to continue?’

_I don’t have anything better to do with my time._

‘Fine.’

‘Alright. Can you tell me what happened after you apologised?’

‘Ended up sitting down with him,' Alex said. 'I swear the guy saved me a seat on the chance that I’d come by… anyway, he introduced me to his, uh, friends, I guess.’

‘Who are they?’

‘Uh, guy named Dennis and another everybody seems to call Pyro.’

‘Oh?’ Wolfram sounded pleasantly surprised. ‘That’s interesting. From what I understand, they are usually solitary individuals – especially Dennis. He has … his own company.’

Alex's mouth twitched.

‘I met them.’

‘But excuse me,’ said the doctor, clearing his throat. ‘I’m distracting you. Please continue.’

‘No problem. So, I met his group, and Dennis suddenly got angry. A ‘grandfather’ personality took the reins, it seemed, and Dennis ended up storming off.’ Alex paused a moment to better formulate his thoughts. ‘Then… Simon started to get upset. Wanted to go after Dennis, help him, like he did with me… But Pyro and I told him not to. Said it was dangerous, he might get hurt, but Simon couldn’t understand. Perhaps… he didn’t care.’ Alex felt strange, almost light-headed, but he pressed on. ‘He… he wanted to help so bad he cried. He couldn’t get why I wasn’t supporting him, and when I explained why, he … broke down crying.’

Alex bowed his head, pushing away the memory of Simon’s heavy sobs against his chest.

He looked up again, pursing his lips, blinking twice, and took a breath.

‘The worst part of it was… nobody stepped in to help. The nurses, they were right there, but they didn’t help him. They just stood and stared, like he wasn’t real, like they didn’t have a duty to help him.’

Wolfram frowned.

‘I see. That is unacceptable,’ he said. ‘I understand why you would be upset.’

‘I hate them. Simon needed them and they just stood there.’

The doctor nodded solemnly.  

‘I will make sure that does not happen again, I promise.’

Alex did not reply. He was still in the grip of the burning, prickly sensations of anger. He wanted to make sure it damn well never happened again. Would Wolfram do it? How could he be trusted?

Then the doctor said something that stayed with Alex long after he left the consultation room, and as he lay awake and deep in thought in bed that night.

‘Simon was lucky to have you there.’

Alex had no idea what to say for a moment. Lucky? Was he high?

‘Are you serious?’ he managed to ask. ‘All I did was say it was best if he left Dennis alone and held him when he burst into tears because he couldn’t understand. I didn’t help at all. Hell, I probably made him feel worse.’

‘It was certainly better than telling him what he wanted to hear and allowing him to potentially hurt himself more,’ Wolfram said. ‘And on top of that, you stayed with him and comforted him as best you could. That’s more than any of the professionals did.’

The consultation when on for another few minutes, and all of a sudden Alex found himself being led back through the maze by the same nurse as before. It made him wonder whether the entire conversation had been a dream.

As they turned a corner, Alex saw the warden walking calmly towards them. Noticing them, he moved to one side.

‘Good afternoon. Miss Jones, Alex,’ he said, nodding to each as he passed.

Alex made up his mind there and then. He stopped and turned towards the departing warden.

‘Warden! Uh, warden, if you have a minute…’

The white-clad overseer stopped and turned. Seeing Alex, he approached.

‘Yes? What is it?’

‘Um, excuse me, sir,’ the nurse interjected. ‘Mr Kolm will be late for his group therapy…’

‘Then he can be late,’ the warden said. Alex couldn’t hold back a smile as the nurse, defeated, took a few steps back to give them space to talk.

Alex wasted no time. He told the warden about the incident in the cafeteria and the nurses’ response (specifically their lack thereof).

When he had finished, warden nodded, frowning. Alex noticed the same cold anger in his eyes as the first day they met. It gave him chills, and he wasn’t the target of the warden’s ire.

‘I see,’ he said. ‘That is not at all adequate behaviour. I will find out who was on shift that day and send out a _reminder_ of what is expected of them.’

Heads were probably going to roll, and if the warden’s sword was anything other than decoration, maybe even literally.

‘Thank you.’

Alex wished he could be a fly on the wall as the warden wrote out that “reminder”.

‘No problem at all,’ the warden said, before asking: ‘How is Simon?’

‘He’s OK now. Well, we managed to calm him down, and he seemed fine when I spoke to him earlier.’

The warden nodded, his expression softened. It was looks like this that enhanced the already feminine quality of the warden’s person, and made Alex question whether or not he really was looking at a woman. It was the rigid, cold toughness in the anger he emitted, his voice, the way he carried himself around the asylum and even the way he inspired fear without even lifting a finger that made Alex perceive the warden the way he did. But he could not ask such a personal question. Perhaps one of the patients knew?

‘I’m glad. It is good to hear you are looking after each other.’

The nurse coughed.

‘Sir…’

The warden gave her a glance.

‘Ah, yes, Mr Kolm’s group session.’ He turned his attention back to Alex. ‘I will let you go, then. Take care.’

Alex smiled.

‘You too.’

The warden turned on his heel and continued on his way down the corridor. Alex felt almost dizzy. He had no idea what to think of the military-esque, sword-wielding, five-foot figure of authority. The warden seemed to take his job seriously, which was a vast improvement from the majority of his subordinates, yet with every act he gave his patients more questions than answers.

‘Mr Kolm, please come with me,’ said the nurse, jolting him out of his thoughts.

The warden had disappeared round the corner. With a sigh, Alex followed his now unsmiling guide back to the male ward.


	6. Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for being gone so long. I became very demoralised as our off-again, on-again move dragged on and on, and I lost the motivation to write. Once the move actually began to progress, and preparations began, there was little to no time for me to dedicate to writing as I would have liked. 
> 
> Now I've finally settled into my new place, I've enough time and motivation to write, and it feels great to finally be able to do that. Thanks for following this story to this point, and for those of you who've hung on waiting for an update, thanks so much, and sorry for the wait! More to come soon.
> 
> Hope you enjoy this chapter!
> 
> Best, 
> 
> Frosty

He was taken to a large room that looked like it spent most of its time as a space for storage, where a group of about twelve patients were sitting in a semicircle in front of three psychiatrists in white coats; two women and one man. Alex wondered if someone was paying them to look the part.

The male doctor stopped mid-sentence when he noticed Alex. Alex recognised him as Dr Ford.

‘Ah, Mr Kolm,’ he said, smiling. ‘Glad to have you here. Please take a seat.’

Alex made his way toward the group and saw Simon sitting right smack in the middle of the gathering. The patient waved. Dennis sat on his right, fidgeting. Pyro was nowhere to be seen.

Simon had saved the seat to his left, and there were no prizes for guessing who for.

Reluctantly, Alex sat down in the empty seat and returned a half-hearted smile to Simon.

‘Now,’ said Ford, turning his attention to Dennis, who shrank down in his seat. ‘Mr Hoyle, you have stated on multiple occasions that you are afraid of a flood. Is that correct?’

Dennis bit his lip and nodded.

The two nurses either side of Ford took notes. One was thin, with a pinched, ashen face and murky grey eyes. The other was less gaunt, and the only one who bothered to put on a smile. She crossed her legs and looked at Dennis with her lip curled.

‘Alright,” continued the doctor. ‘Could you tell us if this flood has already happened, or are you afraid it might happen in the future? Or both?’

All eyes were fixed on Dennis as he squirmed, his panicked, bulging eyes staring at the floor as if begging it to swallow him up.

‘I-I-I-I…’ He stopped and tried again. ‘I-I cuh-cuh-can’t tell you, D-Doctor.’

‘Why not?’ asked Ford.

Silence. All eyes watched Dennis shrinking smaller and smaller in his seat.

‘Why not, Dennis?’

The patient squeezed his eyes shut. _Why did he even come?_ Alex wondered, but then he noticed Simon. He wasn’t smiling anymore, his satisfaction replaced by a mounting horror. Suddenly it made sense. Dennis had come because of Simon, the patient who never wanted to be out of company, constantly surrounded by at least one person, whether they wanted to be with him or not. Alex felt angry at him all over again. Just how much did Simon really care about others?

And then there was Ford.

‘Doctor,’ Alex said.

Ford looked at him.

‘Please don’t interrupt, Mr Kolm.’

‘Dennis doesn’t want to talk. Perhaps we should move on?’

The doctor smiled, but there was nothing good or glad in his eyes.

‘I appreciate your concern for your friend, Alex,’ he said, ‘but if we were to leave this matter alone just because it made Dennis upset, then Dennis would not get any better. These things need to be brought to the table, all the more so if they are hard to bring up.’

Alex stared at him. There were holes in the doctor’s argument, he knew there were, but somehow he couldn’t find the words to expose them.

Not wanting to admit defeat, he turned to Dennis.

‘Can you talk to us about the flood?’ he asked, as kindly as he could.

Dennis’s blue eyes grew wide and agonised.  A moment of silence passed before a wicked, triumphant sneer crossed his lips, from which “Grandfather’s” slimy voice rasped:

‘See what I told you, boy? He’s not your friend.’

Alex opened his mouth to speak, but Simon grasped his hand and gave him a desperate, pleading look: _Don’t anger them, please._

Dennis whimpered to himself, snatches of “Junior’s” pleading voice and the triumphant victors that made up the rest of his twisted ‘family’.  Burning with anger, Alex glared at the doctor sitting calmly in his seat. Dr Ford stared right back.

‘Mr Bailey,’ he said, turning his attention to Simon, ‘I see you’re very close to Mr Kolm.’

Simon snatched his hand back.

‘It’s alright, it’s nothing to be ashamed of,’ the doctor said, chuckling. ‘So, Alex is your new friend?’

The patient nodded nervously.

Alex grimaced. _Ford, you bastard_. He’d finished with Dennis, and now he was onto Simon. Alex wracked his brain. He had to stop this, but how?

Casting his eyes at the rest of the group, sitting in closely guarded silence, he understood. Give nothing away. Keep your secrets and your soul safe inside you, where the doctors can’t find them.

Simon, poor Simon; too naïve to see it, or too desperate for attention, put himself right in Ford’s hands.

Alex gave the patient a warning look, squeezing his hand to get his attention. _Don’t do it. Don’t make an offering of yourself. Simon, can’t you see it?_

But Simon looked into his eyes, helpless and desperate, and ignored him. His need for the comfort and attention of others was too great, and Ford knew it.

‘That’s good to hear,’ the doctor said, smiling. ‘You’re very good at making friends, aren’t you Simon?’

A tentative smile twitched at the corners of Simon’s mouth. He shifted forward in his seat.

‘Yes sir,’ he replied shyly. ‘I like him a lot.’

Alex squeezed his hand tighter, eyes begging.

_Jesus God Simon stop._

Simon’s had eyes only for Ford, the devil in an angel’s skin.

Ford’s eyes strayed for a moment, spying their clasped hands. Alex snatched his hand back, but too late.

‘You two seem very close already,’ the doctor said. He was creeping closer, closer than Simon liked, as the patient’s smile faded and he lowered his eyes.

‘Well – well, we only met recently…’

‘Of course, Alex has only just joined us,’ the doctor interjected. ‘What do you like about Alex?’

_Oh Jesus._

A blush had crept to Simon’s cheeks, and, aware of it, he turned his face away.

‘I… he – I think he’s a good person, doctor,’ Simon mumbled. ‘I… I don’t know how to explain it.’

‘Is he like that other man?’

Simon’s head snapped up, his face draining of colour.

‘N—no!’ he cried. ‘No he’s not! He’s—’

‘Doctor,’ Alex jumped in. ‘Stop. He doesn’t—’

‘Please be quiet, Mr Kolm,’ said the thin nurse.

‘Do you love him, Simon?’

He may as well have shot Simon where he sat. So sudden and so devastating the patient couldn’t cry out – only stare in silent horror as the secret was dragged out, naked and shameful, for all to see. There were sniggers and jeers from some of the patients, and gazing at their work was the doctor and his assistants. Dennis clutched his head and implored his ‘family’ to be quiet.

Tears welled in Simon’s eyes.

‘I have to go,’ he whispered.

Alex grabbed his arm.

‘No, Simon—’

‘I’m sorry.’

The patient yanked his arm away and was out of Alex’s reach before he could stop him.

‘Simon, wait!’

Simon ran from the room to the sound of cheers and laughter.

Alex stood up and rounded on the other patients.

‘Shut the fuck up!’ he bellowed. Dennis’s whimpering grew louder. ‘You don’t like it when these fuckers screw with you, but you love it when it happens to people like Simon. You all fucking deserve to be in here!'

‘Take that back!’ roared a burly, scarred patient, baring what teeth he had left. ‘Stupid shit was asking for it.’

Dennis moaned.

‘Sit down, both of you!’ ordered Dr Ford.

_‘Shut up!’_

Alex screamed with such force that every other voice went silent. Even Dennis was shocked out of his ‘conversation’. Alex glared at the doctor, feeling the heat of fury engulfing his head, his body, as he seethed. _‘You caused this. You did this.’_

‘I was only trying to help,’ said the doctor.

Jaw clenched, Alex stood.

He felt a hand clutch his shirt. Looking down, Alex saw Dennis’s frightened, tear-stained face.

‘Puh-puh-please,’ he begged. ‘Puh- _please don’t leave me…_ ’

Alex’s heart ached.

‘Let go, Dennis. Please, I have to see Simon…’

‘Duh-duh-don’t leave… th-th-they’ll…’

‘I’ll come back. Please, Dennis—’

‘Th-they’ll…’

‘I’ll come back, I promise.’

‘N-n-nuh—nuh— _no_ …’

Tearing himself away, Alex strode towards the door as Dennis began to wail.

‘Mr Kolm, _sit down!’_  the thin nurse demanded.

‘I’m going to find Simon.’

‘Sit down,’ said the smug nurse. ‘We will not tell you again.’

At this Alex swung round and pointed at their cold uncaring faces.

‘No, _you_ will sit down! You’ve hurt him enough!’

With that, he left.

* * *

 

Alex hurried, looking over his shoulder to check nobody was coming after him. Neither the two nurses or the doctor followed. He slowed down. At least he could look for Simon in peace.

Where could he have gone? Alex followed the path he had come down, this way and that, checking each room, not daring to call the patient’s name for fear of attracting unwanted attention. He remembered the warden, but finding him now was too much to hope for. The warden was a busy man. He could not be everywhere. The faint sound of people moving about reached his ears, and Alex stopped.

His hope died. No. The sounds came from deeper into the labyrinth, from which Alex had just come. Simon would not be there.

Alex continued his search.

* * *

 

After minutes of fruitless searching, Alex picked up the faint sound of whimpers coming from a bathroom on the far end of the corridor.

Alex dashed for it – a bathroom – and burst through the door.

‘Simon!’

The patient stood pale and trembling in the centre of the room. One of the mirrors was smashed and bloody, and glass littered the floor. One shard was in Simon’s trembling fist, pressed to the skin of his neck.

Seeing Alex, he whimpered, and closed his eyes.

_‘NO!’_

With a lunge, Alex sent them both crashing to the floor, pinning Simon’s arm to the floor with one hand, and his body with the other.

A thin trickle of blood leaked out of the cut in Simon’s neck. Tears flowed down his cheeks. He twisted and squirmed under Alex, but in vain.

‘Go away,’ he sobbed. ‘Just let me die...’

‘I won’t!’ said Alex, breathing hard. ‘Simon, what the hell are you doing? Why did you tell the doctors that?’

Simon’s watery brown eyes gazed into his.

‘Because it’s true,’ he said. ‘Not because I’m sick… I really feel it. It’s true.’ He took a shivery breath, his face crumpling. ‘But you’ll hate me. You’ll leave me…’

Simon lurched, trying to wrench himself free, but Alex pressed down harder.

 _‘How could I hate the only person who makes me want to live?’_ Alex shouted, tears welling in his eyes. His chest ached. Simon was such a fucking idiot. An idiot for caring about him, loving him, but an idiot he couldn’t bear to lose.

Not again.

Simon had stopped crying, and now stared up at Alex with an expression of pure bewilderment on his face.

‘I… make you want to live?’

‘You’re damn right!’ said Alex thickly. ‘Damn right you do. Part of me doesn’t want it to be true.’ He cracked a smile. ‘But it is.’

There was a moment’s silence before Simon smiled.

‘So you’ll stay?’

Alex nodded.

‘I’ll stay.’ Moving off Simon, he crouched, extending a hand. ‘Come on, let’s get you cleaned up.'

Simon looked at his hand for a moment before taking it, allowing himself to be lifted to his feet.

‘So long as I can stay with you, I’ll be fine,’ he said, gazing at Alex with that endearing smile of his.

Alex didn’t know how else to reply but nod. He didn’t love Simon, and Alex didn’t want to hurt him more by leading him on. It seemed that Alex made Simon happy by simply living. Alex could hardly grasp the idea. In such a short space of time he had touched a man so deeply that the man would rather die than be without him. It was frightening. Was this part of Simon's illness? What was harmful, either to himself or others, or both?

 _It might be worth talking to Dr Wolfram about_ , he thought.

Despite his misgivings, part of Alex wanted Simon’s feelings to be as genuine and pure as the patient's smile. It had been so long since he had been on the receiving end of such love.

Alex just wanted Simon to live, so that he could experience this love for as long as he could. 

Leading Simon out of the bathroom, Alex walked a little way before passing a dour-faced nurse coming towards them with a broom in hand, sweeping as she went. Alex could not believe how neither she nor any other orderly had come running at the sound of his and Simon’s struggle in the bathroom. Did they simply not care?

The nurse continued on her way without even a glance their way. Her eyes were dull and unfocused, staring into the empty distance.

Swearing under his breath, Alex took his friend to the infirmary under Simon’s direction.

* * *

 

With Simon’s neck wound and hands cleaned and bandaged appropriately, Alex smiled, satisfied that all had turned out alright in spite of the circumstances.

His smile disappeared when he realised that it had not.

He remembered.

_Dennis!_

Alex rushed back down the corridors with a panicked Simon close behind.

‘Alex, what’s wrong?’ he cried as they turned a corner.

‘It’s Dennis!’ Alex replied breathlessly. ‘I told him I’d be right back for him! I have to… he’s got to be still there!’

He saw the doors to the storage room slowed down, partly to catch his breath, and partly so not to frighten Dennis.

After the thudding in his ears and chest had mostly gone, Alex noticed how quiet it was. He couldn’t hear Dr Ford or anyone. He couldn’t have been gone that long – their session was due to go on another forty minutes at least. There was no way he and Simon could have been gone that long.

As he approached the door, he heard familiar muffled whimpering.

Alex opened the door, and found every chair had been stacked away but one. All previous inhabitants of the room had gone too – except one.

Dennis sat alone in the middle of the room on his chair, huddled and whispering to himself.

‘H-h-he s-said he’d be back…’

‘People _say_ whatever they want,’ snapped Pa. ‘Don’t mean it’s true.’

‘You’ve always been _soft_ ,’ hissed the grandfather. ‘ _Soft_ and _weak_ as a newborn. Shame in my loins…’

‘B-but he… h-h-he...’

‘Dennis!’

The patient jolted and snapped round. When he saw Alex, he stared, and standing tears spilled from his awestruck blue eyes.

‘Y-you came,’ he murmured.

Alex walked towards him, smiling apologetically.

‘I’m sorry I was so late. I—’

‘You weren’t late, boy,’’ the grandfather said, as Dennis’s eyes glared at him. He seemed disappointed. Alex stopped in his tracks.

‘What do you mean?’

‘They left right after you did,’ the old man went on. ‘Doctor got up ’n said the meetin’ was over. Told everybody to get their asses out _that way_.’ Dennis gestured to the second exit on the far left of the room.

Alex felt cold all over.

Dennis’s lip curled.

‘Junior wanted ta stay. We told ’im you wasn’t comin’, but…’

‘I came.’

Alex approached Dennis, trying to reign in the rage burning inside him. Dr Ford left Dennis alone to stew in his own fear and desperation. Was it to punish Dennis, or punish Alex himself, or was this his way of killing two birds with one stone?

_That fucking son of a bitch…_

‘Dennis,’ he said, getting down to the patient’s level. ‘I’m sorry. You must’ve been scared. See –’ He gestured to Simon, ‘I found Simon. He’s OK now. Everything’s OK now.’

Dennis’s eyes welled up again and his lip quivered.

‘Y-y-you c-came b-buh-back…’

Alex smiled.

‘Promised you, didn’t I?’

Dennis broke down on Alex’s shoulder, clinging to him like a baby. Simon came over and placed a hand on the sobbing patient’s back. Alex and Simon looked at one another. Simon smiled.

Alex felt dizzy, like trying to wake from a dream when you realise you’re dreaming. These two damaged young men needed him. They relied on him.They wanted him to live. This couldn’t be reality, could it? In this house of the mad, did anyone truly know? Holding the sobbing Dennis in his arms, Alex felt like crying himself. Now he wouldn't die alone here anymore. These men would cry over him. Simon might really kill himself. Dr Ford and the nurses would mock them, hurt them...

Simon looked at him with worried eyes.

'Alex? Alex, what's wrong?'

He bit back a sob and buried his face in Simon's shoulder.

_Oh God, why can't these bastards let me die?_


	7. Subject: A Slow Death

From: [n.wolfram@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:n.wolfram@murkoff.us.com)

To: [p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:p.walsh@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: A Slow Death

Mr Walsh,

Following my recent interview with patient Alexander Kolm, there is no doubt in my mind as to his goal. This young man came to Mount Massive voluntarily, that much you know. But this young man did not come to us to get better, he came here to die. The cafeteria staff have informed me that Mr Kolm has not eaten since his arrival here, even when he has taken food from them. I was informed that Mr Kolm’s eating schedule prior to being interred was sparse and sporadic, but since arriving has forsaken food altogether.

A powerful grief is driving Mr Kolm to a slow, painful death, and he is aware of this fact. The only glimmer of hope I see for this to change is his recent interaction with patient Simon Bailey. In our interview, Kolm seemed touched by Bailey’s concern for him, whether he approved of it or not. I believe it could be a sign that closer interaction and connection with the more sociable patients here will benefit him. However, with Mr Bailey’s history, he may prove to do more harm than good. It is difficult to predict Mr Kolm’s future.

As such, I wish to have your opinion on the matter, along with what course of action would be best to implement, particularly if Mr Kolm continues to refuse food.

Please advise.

Dr Neil Wolfram

* * *

 

From: [f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:f.ford@murkoff.us.com)

To: [c.eisner@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:c.eisner@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: A Pain in the Ass

Hi Cindy,

Boy, was today a trial! One new patient’s really been making my job more difficult than it needs to be. Alex Kolm. You know, the guy who got me on the warden’s bad books. The warden, of all people!

Anyway, we were having the routine therapy session, when Kolm suddenly decides he doesn’t like the way I work and starts trying to tell me how to do my job. I was questioning two of his buddies, so he got mad, I guess.

Remember Bailey? Remember I told you he was a closet queer? Well, I was right! The guy straight up admitted in front of everyone that he is head over heels in love with our cranky German friend! I know, I couldn’t believe it either! Well, mad love is just as valid here as mad hate, right?

So Bailey runs out of the room like a little girl and Kolm starts screaming at me, Laura and Betty. You should have seen him go! I honestly can’t describe it. He went goddamn berserk. I've seen patients get violent before, but never this kind of violent. It was a deluded tirade, yes, but coherent. I have to admit, the guy has charisma in spades. I was afraid more patients would follow him, but luckily Kolm was the black sheep of the group. Ugh, so tiring. If only they could all be as docile and stupid as Dennis!

But that’s enough about my day, how was yours? Are you still being run ragged? ;) We should have coffee together again, it’s been too long!

Felix

* * *

 

From: [c.eisner@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:c.eisner@murkoff.us.com)

To: [f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:f.ford@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: RE: A Pain in the Ass

Oh dear! Sounds like a big headache! Sorry to hear you’re getting grief.

Things aren’t much better on my end. I had to visit the Prison Block with some colleagues to sedate a particularly uncooperative Gluskin. Yeah, Gluskin. The creep’s old enough to be my father and he makes comments about my ass as guards are holding him down. As far as I’m concerned, he’s beyond help. That includes pretty much everybody in here, really. You know what I mean ;)

Coffee sounds great! I’ll let you know if I can get the time off.

Cindy x

* * *

 

From: [warden@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:warden@murkoff.us.com)

To: [p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:p.walsh@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: Recipe for Disaster

Mr Walsh,

I understand that patient Alex Kolm attended a therapy session headed by Dr Ford and two colleagues yesterday afternoon. Once again, I must question this decision. As I have previously highlighted to you, Dr Ford and Mr Kolm’s first interview resulted in a patient meltdown due to gross irresponsibility of his interviewer. Whose decision was it to put the two together in the same situation of stress? It certainly was not mine.

Worse, I hear that two other patients were negatively affected during this session.

Since Ford has proved himself incapable of correcting his own mistakes, I see no other option than to forbid him contact with patients Alex Kolm, Simon Bailey and Dennis Hoyle. I will be sure to make it clear to Dr Ford that if he values his place here to any degree, he will not be so foolish again.

Warden

* * *

 

From: [j.blaire@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:j.blaire@murkoffcorp.us.com)

To: [p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:p.walsh@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: RE: RE: Recipe for Disaster

That guy just doesn’t get it, does he? He struts around as if he’s the lord of Mount Massive and thinks he has the right to tell his superiors who to fire, who’s a waste of space and who isn’t. 

You know what’s more idiotic? He knows what Murkoff is, yet he expects everybody to kiss his ass. Sounds like all these years of working for us have damaged his brain.

Don’t worry about him, Walsh. Just tell him it’s being dealt with and tell that nosy fucker to do his job. Let me know of any similar garbage he sends your way.

Yours,

Jeremy Blaire

* * *

 

From: [p.walsh@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:p.walsh@murkoff.us.com)

To: [warden@murkoffcorp.us.com](mailto:warden@murkoff.us.com)

Subject: RE: Recipe for Disaster

Warden,

Your complaint is being processed. In the meantime, please ensure no contact occurs between Dr Ford and the three patients concerned.

Regards,

Phillip Walsh

_Chair, Department of Psychiatry_

_Murkoff Psychiatric Systems_


	8. Fernweh

When Alex awoke the next morning to the rousing calls of the orderlies, he did not move. Instead, he lay where he was, staring up at the ceiling. It was still the same dank grey colour, but the day before someone had entered his room and cleaned it up. The room was now mostly free of filth and the mattresses no longer stank of shit, though the walls still cried out for a new coat of paint. The room now smelled faintly of disinfectant.

He sat up and looked at the bag sitting unopened on his bedside table. It had sat here ever since he had arrived at the asylum. Looking at it was like a punch in the gut. How could he have left it there? How could he have abandoned the precious things inside?

Feeling sick, Alex grabbed the bag and opened it on his lap.

Inside were photographs, as many as he could fit inside the limited space. Fighting the urge to vomit, Alex took one and looked at it.

It was a picture of himself, his father, and his brother in front of the Turquoise Lake and snow-capped Mount Elbert, the highest point in the Colorado state. The sky was a brilliant blue, and there was a smile on the face of every person in the picture. Alex remembered how good everything had been then. He remembered his brother’s hand on his shoulder. How Dad had said “Käse!” as he always did when photos were taken. How bliss had been captured in that moment… and now existed only there.

Achim and Dad were not here.

Achim and Dad were…

Alex felt his chest tighten as the feelings preserved in the photograph flowed back into his mind. Tears began to flow as painful sobs wracked his body.

With trembling fingers, he prised out the furry thing stuffed beneath the photographs.

A bear.

It was Otto. Otto had been with him since he was an infant. He had even accompanied Alex to college; a guilty secret, hidden from his classmates. Then every night since… his fur was wetted with Alex’s tears.

And now…

Now he was ugly, mouthless, aged beyond his years. Otto’s stitched eyes looked into Alex as if to say: _There’s no place here for you._

Alex sobbed, but the bear was unrepentant.

_You’re still here. That’s not what you want._

Simon and Dennis had poked holes in his resolve, made him think that He couldn’t allow it to crumble and fall. This is what he decided because this is what he deserved. It could be no other way.

Alex opened his eyes.

 _“Someone whose life was worthless didn’t deserve to live”._ That’s what he had thought before. The truth was; he was already dead. The only difference was that he was still moving around. The next step was obvious. He had forgotten that. Dennis and Simon had made him forget about his father and brother. For a while, it had seemed as if they didn’t exist.

He couldn’t allow that.

An orderly banged on his door.

‘Hey! You in there, get up!’

Alex tucked the photo under his pillow and stood, trying to catch his breath.

Oh God, what was he doing?

Stumbling, Alex exited his room and headed with the other patients down the corridor.

He blinked blearily leaning against the wall for support. His head felt heavy, as if it was being slowly but deliberately squeezed.

‘Y-y-you don’t l-look so good…’ a nervous voice said.

Closing his eyes, Alex took a breath, and the dizziness retreated, brewing at the back of his mind like a living thing.

Opening them, he looked up into Dennis's worried face. The patient was looking at him helplessly, wringing his hands. The patient’s room was about six or seven doors down from his own. 

‘Sorry, Dennis,’ Alex murmured. He swallowed. He felt like vomiting. ‘I—I just need to sit down…’

Dennis wrung his hands. His eyes swiveled frantically in their sockets.

‘M-m-maybe…’

The ground gave a violent lurch from under him, and Alex plunged into darkness.

* * *

Cracking open both eyes, bit by bit, he adjusted to an uncomfortably intense light shining down on him from above.

As his sense of feeling came back, Alex found he was lying on a bed with faintly discoloured sheets. There was a buzz of noise; people talking, moving around, nearby. He saw other beds out of the corner of his eye, patients lying in or wandering around them, muttering, shouting, and cursing. He remembered – this was the infirmary.

At that moment Alex became aware of a presence other than his own standing right beside him.

A doctor peered down at Alex through small round spectacles, behind which tired grey eyes blinked. His face was thin, with high cheekbones and a stubble chin. His greasy black hair, at the very least, looked like it had been cut recently.

The doctor held a folder in his hands, which he now opened and briefly inspected before addressing Alex.

‘Mr Kolm,’ he said, in a slow, gravelly voice. ‘I’m Dr. Andrews. How are you feeling?’

Alex groaned. His entire body felt heavy and limp, and his head ached dizzily.

‘What the hell happened?’

‘Your blood sugar levels dropped to more than what your body could handle,’ Andrews replied, adjusting his glasses. ‘You didn’t regain consciousness, so we gave you a shot of glucagon to get them back to normal. Well, near enough. We have some food here for you to eat. Not all at once, mind you, but…’

Alex tuned the doctor out, lost in thought. He wasn’t surprised at the news. He had not eaten or drank properly for several days, it was only natural that this would happen.

Watching from nearby was an observing doctor and two male orderlies. There were other staff members in the room, but they were busy with the other patients.

Alex could feel all those eyes on him, watching for any sign that he might try to extinguish his pitiful life. What was it worth to them? They certainly didn’t give a shit about Simon’s! Why was he so special?

A wave of anguish overwhelmed him and he gave a low moan. This time, he hadn’t. This time he could have…

‘Why don’t you people just let me die?’ he cried. ‘I just want…’

‘Your friends would not like that.’ Before Alex could respond, Dr Andrews stepped aside to allow him to see three people standing behind him.

Simon was the first to come forward, rushing to his bedside. Even if Alex closed his eyes now, there was no way he could look away from that face. The anguish in it was too raw. The healed scar tissue around the patient’s head looked reddish in parts, as if he had been scratching it. This sight shook Alex more than Simon’s tears. This guy just poured his heart out to anybody he attached himself to, and it only hurt him more. He needed someone, anyone, and if that someone was threatened, he couldn’t handle it.

_He couldn’t handle it._

Neither could Dennis. Neither could Pyro, whatever his name was. That’s why they were around him now.

Anger burned at the back of Alex’s head, creeping over, boiling over. God damn these people! God damn them!

‘Alex, are you alright?’ Simon cried. ‘What happened? Dennis wouldn’t…’

‘I thought you weren’t eating right,’ Pyro said, his puckered features creased in concern as he got himself, Simon and Dennis a chair and sat down. ‘But I didn’t think…’

‘You see, boy? Look what you did!’ grumbled ‘Grandpa’, as Dennis scowled down at him. ‘The fucker wants to die!’

‘Dennis, don’t say that!’

_‘Shut up!’_

All voices fell silent. The way they were looking at him – bewildered, uncomprehending – pissed Alex off. They didn’t understand. They didn’t give a shit what he wanted. They didn’t know just how worthless he was, just how little it really mattered whether he was here or not, where he truly wanted to be – nothing!

The doctor moved forward to placate him.

‘Mr Kolm—!’

‘Just shut up! What do you know? What the _fuck_ do you know?’ Alex threw up himself upward, supporting himself with his hands, chest heaving, staring daggers. If he could really stab and draw blood with his gaze, that was fine. They would understand. They would stay away. They wouldn’t be harmed, and then…

‘Don’t look at me! Get the fuck out! Don’t…’ He rounded on Simon. ‘You don’t get it! None of you! Leave me be! Let me die! That’s why…!’

‘Mr Kolm, _lay down!’_ Andrews cried, putting his hands on Alex’s shoulders, as if he were afraid he would lunge at Simon. Two male orderlies moved in, ready to restrain him. ‘You only just regained consciousness! You need to…!’

Alex’s body shook. Even if he had the will to do some damage, he hadn’t the strength. Sobs caught in his throat and made his throat ache. His chest ached. His head ached.

‘ _Please_ ,’ he begged. ‘Please. Leave me alone.’

Tears were streaming down Simon’s face. There was such a lost look in his eyes. For the first time since they met, all Simon could do nothing but sit and stare. 

Tearing his eyes away, Alex let the doctor ease him back down onto the bed, breathing thick, heavy breaths, interrupted by the occasional sob.

There was silence around the bed, as the doctor took a moment to write some notes in Alex’s file, and his three visitors sat in disquiet, Dennis frantically whispering, head in hands. The doctor, satisfied the worst was over, moved back and quietly took notes.

‘This isn’t how I wanted it to go,’ Alex whispered.

‘What do you mean?’ Simon asked, tentatively.

‘I was supposed to die. I should have died then, but…’ He swallowed a sob and turned his face away as emotion threatened to engulf him. ‘What the hell am I doing here? I…’

‘I think I know, kid.’

Pyro had spoken. Surprised, Alex raised his head and looked at him.

The older patient gazed solemnly back.

‘Listen,’ he said. ‘Before I was taken here, I set my house on fire and waited for the flames to take me. The only reason I’m alive right now is because the fire-fighters got to me before that could happen.’

Alex felt a tingling sensation throughout his entire body. He couldn’t place what he felt – if it was confusion or fear.

‘Every time I look in the mirror I remember how I felt. The therapy helps.’

He sighed.

‘What I’m trying to say is - survival is the strongest instinct we have, and to even think about overriding it … you’ve got to be in a whole other level of pain. I’m the last guy who would question that.’

Pyro shifted in his chair, considering what to say next, his good eye wandering for a moment before settling on Alex again.

‘You wonder what you’re still doing here, even when you wanted to die so bad. I wonder the same thing, even on good days. The thing is, Alex, part of you still wants to live.’

Alex closed his eyes, his face contorting in pain, the pain that came with the creeping realisation that Pyro was right. Almost two years after… he was still breathing, listening to Pyro, in an asylum hospital bed. Was his love for them really so little that he dared to cling to life?

‘You feel guilty, right?’

Alex mustered a nod.

‘And it’s been like this for a while?’

A whimper escaped Alex’s lips as he nodded again. He put a hand to his mouth to stifle any more noise.

‘Alex.’ Simon spoke up, voice quavering. ‘Did I… back then… did I make it worse?’

Alex remembered – the words he had screamed as he pinned the desperate Simon to the floor. ‘ _How could I hate the person who makes me want to live?_ ’ He could not hide it.

He nodded.

‘Then,’ Simon faltered, ‘what you said to me was—’

‘I meant it.’ Alex opened his eyes and looked at the patient. ‘Then, I meant it. But…’

‘You don’t know what to do.’ Simon smiled. ‘I’m sorry.’

Alex felt tears welling up and he blinked hard.

‘It’s OK. You didn’t know.’

‘I—I get it!’ Dennis cried suddenly, before slapping both hands onto his mouth, eyes wide with horror, as if he had blasphemed.

‘What do you mean, Dennis?’ Simon asked.

The patient shook his head, turning his head away, as if ashamed.

‘He ain't got nothin’ to say to you,’ mumbled ‘Timmy’.

‘Dennis,’ Simon coaxed. ‘It’s OK. We’re you’re friends, you can tell us.’

Dennis looked at him with such hatred that he jumped away.

‘You ain’t our friends,’ he said. It was Pa. ‘ _None ’o you_.’

An uncomfortable silence descended and hung thickly in the air.

Pyro spoke up.

‘Alex,’ he began. ‘You don’t need to make up your mind right now, but I’ve been thinking… since dying isn’t working out for you, how about you give living a shot?’

Alex stared. For almost two years, living had been a heresy to him, and yet, here he was, still sinning. No matter what he had done, he had continued to live, even when living was the same as wandering down a dark, dank tunnel with no-one, no light to guide him, no end.

Now, whether he liked it or not, he had three people who wanted him to live, people that made his life less empty.

There it was again: the stab in the gut, the old, twisting pain of guilt.

Death had been his purpose. Not a moment went by when, sitting in his family home, he did not think about his loved ones, and how he had lost them, and how empty and meaningless everything was. Dad and Achim, their love, their presence, was gone. Alex drifted from day to day as the sole remaining man in a grey, empty world.

Yet, even when he had tried to die, he had failed. Concerned friends who had insisted on checking up on him, found him bleeding one day. They called an ambulance, and he had survived. In a rage, Alex had barred them from his home. 

Still he had continued to live. Subsequent attempts had failed, and the days came and went in sobs and silence.

Now, Alex once again had people who wanted him to live. They had, whether he liked it or not, started to give some colour back to his world. He liked them. He wanted to get to know them, to be around them. Simon, Pyro, even Dennis…

The emptiness ached. The longing, the yearning for what he had lost still remained.

He bit his lip.

‘Alright. I’ll try.’

Simon beamed with relief, and Pyro managed a small smile.

Dennis only stared as if awestruck. Alex could only guess what he was thinking. He was exhausted.

Noting this, the doctor closed the file in his hands and stepped forward.

‘Now, Mr Kolm, I think it’s time you get some rest. There are some snacks here. Eat and drink often, a little at a time.’ He gestured to the bedside table, and Alex looked and saw a bottle of water and an assortment of snacks: a bag of nuts, pretzels, two granola bars, and what smelled like peanut butter sandwiches on a plate.

‘Don’t wolf it down all at once.’

‘Alright.’

The doctor then produced a tablet. He held it out to him, along with a glass of water.

‘Here.’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s a dextrose tablet,’ the doctor explained. ‘It will help spike your blood sugar and keep it at a normal level.’ Dr Andrews smiled. It was unbecoming of him. 'We don’t want you fainting again.’

It seemed the staff of Mount Massive was fond of expressing their concern for his well-being, even if their actions pointed to the contrary.

 _Everyone in this room wants me to live,_ Alex thought. _Everyone has their reasons..._

His eyes moved from his friends to Dr Andrews, then to the guards who were watching him close by.

_Everyone has their reasons…_

_What’s theirs?_

With a grimace, Alex popped the tablet into his mouth and took a swig of water, gulping hard.

He screwed up his face as he felt the tablet go down his throat.

Simon beamed and even grasped Alex’s hand in his excitement.

‘You did it!’ he cried. ‘That was really hard for you… but you did it!’

Pyro nodded approvingly.

Dennis said nothing, watching meekly from his chair.

Alex was too involved in his own thoughts too wonder what the patient was thinking. With this act, he had chosen to live, at least for now. Alex would have been lying if he said he was doing this for himself. When he looked at the faces of Simon, Pyro and Dennis, he hurt.

_How about giving living a shot?_

Even now, as he resolved to do this, his body and mind revolted. The aching grief washed over him, an overwhelming physical agony, burning in his brain and turning his body into a dead weight. The desire to simply lie down and die was creeping up on him. He could feel it lurking there, in the deep, dark corners of his mind where the memories were kept.

The moment this father

The moment his brother

It was there, but he couldn’t let them… he couldn’t…

Desperately Alex pressed both hands to his head. He had to keep himself tied to this moment – the moment he had promised to Simon and the others he would…

Live?

 _Live_?

Alex wanted to laugh so badly it hurt, but he knew that if he did, he would lose…

What?

Alex froze. The question shook him to the core. He tried to think through the sudden hush, but all that came out was the same question. It was so stupid and so simple, yet the answer would not come.

_What? What would I lose?!_

Hands touched his shoulders and a concerned voice called out to him, bringing him back.

‘Alex?’

To suddenly blink and see a face was a shock. Alex stared, and he wondered who this bald, scarred man with anxious brown eyes was.

Then it clicked.

‘Simon?’

Relief released his paralyzed mind and body.

 _Thank God_ , he thought.

Simon opened his mouth, but shut it again.

Dr Andrews stepped in again.

‘Mr Kolm is tired,’ he said. ‘He’ll need plenty of sleep. Come along.’

He ushered the three patients out of the room. Dennis dashed out like a man gasping for air. Pyro gave Alex a thumbs up as he left. Simon lingered, watching Alex in silence.

Dr Andrews put a hand on the patient’s shoulder.

‘Come along, Mr Bailey.’

Simon bit his lip, fidgeting.

'Um...'

'What's up, Simon?' Alex didn't want the doctor to shoo the patient out, but at the same time, he was wary, fearful, of what he would say. 

'Um... You'll...' Simon clutched his hands, setting his jaw as he fought his emotions. Looking up, he said: 'You'll still be here tomorrow, right?'

Alex was speechless. He mustered a nod. It was all he could do. A hard lump had lodged in his throat, and he didn't trust himself to speak.

Smiling faintly, Simon gave a wave, and left.

Now Alex was alone with Dr Andrews, along with the overseeing orderlies and visiting doctor.

‘Now Mr Kolm,’ Andrews said. ‘Make sure to eat and drink every now and then.’

Alex nodded. The same sickly tingling he had experienced before fainting was coming back. So was the dizzy sensation in his head. His stomach whined, and he eyed to the food on the table.

The doctor smiled.

‘Good night. I will come and see how you are tomorrow morning.’

Alex nodded, and Dr Andrews left along with the visiting doctor. The orderlies that had been keeping watch went about their business in the ward.

Finally alone, Alex continued staring at the food on the table.

Give living a chance. That’s what he promised.

Was that OK? Was that right?

Gritting his teeth, he grabbed a peanut butter sandwich and began eating while fighting the urge to gag.

He had to stop thinking. He had to eat.

Once he had eaten and drank a little, exhaustion enveloped Alex and he lay down, sinking into sleep.

* * *

It was dark when he next awoke, with a faint silvery light seeping in through the curtained windows of the infirmary. Lying still, Alex listened to the sounds of the sleeping patients around him in their beds; their moans, grunts and snores.

Several minutes passed before three nurses quietly entered the room with a gurney bearing an unconscious patient.

As they approached, Alex shut his eyes. He heard the gurney stop by the bed to his right, and muffled sounds told him they were depositing the patient into it.

Then they spoke, whispering to one another.

‘Poor man, who’d have thought he’d get like this?’

One nurse sighed.

‘You think you know a person, and then…’

‘We should have kept a better eye on him. Old Slippery was _not_ happy.’

Alex heard the sound of sheets being drawn over a body and patted down.

‘Well, we should keep a better eye on him now. Starting tonight.’

‘Yes, ma’am.’

The older nurse of the trio gave her instructions, and then they left, the gurney’s rusted old wheels grating on the floor as they went.

As the sound died away, Alex opened his eyes and turned on his side to look at the new patient.

He was visibly older than most patients, mid-fifties at least, with a pale, weathered, square face and a regular cut of greying black hair, dishevelled either from stress or sleep. There were heavy shadows under his eyes. Alex recalled seeing most patients with this particular feature, hell, he probably had them himself. Given their troubles, it wasn’t surprising. They had plenty to keep them up at night.

The patient’s mouth was slightly parted, as if he had been trying to say something before he fell unconscious. It made Alex uneasy. It made him remember his father before…

Shaking his head furiously, Alex forced himself to concentrate on rise and fall of the man’s chest, and the light sounds emitting from his open mouth.

Naturally the patient wore the same old itchy jumpsuit they all wore, but with one key, chilling difference.

The patient’s forearms were heavily bandaged, and spots and streaks of blood stained his sleeves and pants.

This guy hadn’t just cut himself, he’d hit an artery. Like with Alex, somebody had been there to stop him. The way the blood was smeared on his jumpsuit told Alex there had been a struggle. He’d tried to fight them off, but they’d subdued him, put him out, and administered the proper care he needed.

Now he was here.

Alex clenched his fists, feeling cold. He knew this scenario well, and if this man was anything like him, there would be hell when he woke up.

Alex decided to wait until that happened.

* * *

A period of what felt like an hour passed by before the patient’s eyes began to stir and flicker open.

Alex, who had been lightly dozing, was jolted awake by the sound of the patient’s rustling sheets and he opened his eyes wide.

The patient’s eyes opened wide – they seemed brown, but it too dark to say for certain – and began to glance about with increasing panic. He looked at his arms and touched the bandages.

Suddenly his face crumped and he began to sob.

‘Hey, hey.’ Alex sat up, slowly, so not to agitate his fragile head. The patient continued to squeeze out agonised sobs from his throat as his body shook.

Pained, Alex got out of bed and crept closer to him, putting a hand on his arm.

‘Hey, buddy—’

‘ _Don’t call me_ _that!’_ The patient hissed with such ferocity that Alex jumped. The patient’s streaming eyes were wide and blazing with rage. ‘ _He_ calls me that. Trager. He…’

The patient’s mouth quivered and he shut his eyes, tears leaking out.

‘ _Oh God…_ ’

Alex’s heart hurt for this man. Even though he didn’t know his name, he knew what it felt like to wake up and realise the death you had so desperately sought had been denied to you. That state of painlessness you sought, robbed ‘for your own good’. He knew what it was to feel like that.

Alex patted the patient’s arm comfortingly.

‘I’m sorry,’ he murmured. ‘I know. I… I’ve tried to die too.’

The patient opened his eyes, wet with tears, and looked at him.

‘I got brought to this place and tried to die, but…’

‘You don’t understand,’ the patient cut in. ‘They’ve put me here to shut me up! _I worked here!’_

Alex stared, stunned. 

The patient grimaced, simmering down.

‘I know you don’t believe me, but it’s true.’

‘I believe you,’ Alex said. He wasn’t entirely sure if he was telling the truth himself, but given everything he had seen and experienced so far… he was beginning to suspect something was wrong with this so-called hospital. There was a five-foot warden with a sword for a weapon, for God’s sake! Not to mention the behaviour of the staff, the doctors…

Something smelled rotten.

‘I’m Alex,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

The older patient swallowed before speaking.

‘David,’ he whispered. ‘David Annapurna.’


	9. Subject: A Rare, Sad Case

From: c.houston@murkoffcorp.com

To: n.wolfram@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: A Rare, Sad Case

Dr Wolfram,

Yesterday afternoon I observed a check-up conducted by Dr Andrews with your patient, Alex. A combination of stress, fatigue and lack of sustenance culminated in a rather serious fainting episode that morning. A shot of glucagon was administered, and he regained consciousness in the infirmary.

You mentioned in your previous email that Alex has, unexpectedly, made a friend in another patient of yours, Simon Bailey, along with two others. Those three visited Alex in the infirmary. With the possible exception of Dennis, it was clear that the patients share a bond.

After an outburst of anger, Alex was calmed, and his three visitors managed to at least temporarily encourage the young man to reconsider life. Of course, this could change very rapidly if not acted upon soon.

I understand that Andrews has sent you a more detailed account of events, so I will only give my two cents here.

As you suspected, Alex has deliberately refused food as a method of suicide. An overpowering grief has severely impaired his functionality and quality of life for the better part of a year and a half, and his body has suffered in equal measure to his mental decline. Reports and documents show me that has been in and out of hospital for bouts of illness as well as attempts of suicide. Withdrawing from the world and all sympathy, he has wasted away until an explosive confrontation with a relative, an uncle, led to his incarceration here. 

The evidence leads me to believe we are dealing with a case of Prolonged Grief Disorder. It is the first time I have personally encountered it. Since the deaths of his father and brother this young man has longed for death, yet, to his frustration, has been thwarted by outside forces or by his own human instinct.

Psychotherapy specifically designed for PGD is in order, since that has been the only thing proved remotely beneficial thus far.

Regards,

Dr Houston

* * *

From: c.houston@murkoffcorp.com

To: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: One for the Engine

Dr Ford,

Following my observations of Patient 2526, I did a little digging and found some very interesting information. Perhaps you were aware already, but the familial deaths that have so impaired the patient, particularly that of his brother, have created a particularly severe case of Prolonged Grief Disorder in said patient. Wolfram has confirmed the correct method of treatment for his case, and from there I believe we have the foundations for something very promising.

First the patient must build up his strength; he is a liability in his current state. That said, even in a weakened state he managed to almost kill a visiting relative prior to his incarceration. He still cannot bring himself to accept the reality of his loss. If he were to be confronted forcefully… do you catch my drift?

Please find attached Patient 2526’s case history, as well as my, Dr Wolfram and Dr Gregory’s notes and assessments regarding him.

Regards,

Dr Houston

* * *

From: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: c.houston@murkoffcorp.com

Subject: RE: One for the Engine

Dr Houston,

Thank you for bringing this to my attention. I very much agree with your view. I think our weepy friend may do very well in the Engine. It’s true we’re in short supply of good candidates, but with his history and the current state of things, I think we’ve bagged a good one.

I’ll put this to the higher ups right away.

Best,

Dr Ford


	10. Walrider

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm very sorry for the slow update guys. The latter half of this year has been pretty rough - especially my few months as an au pair. But I'm back in business, and ready to add the next chapter on from this as well! Thanks to those who've been following the story so far :)

Alex peered over the patient’s body in case any nurses were approaching. Whatever David was going to tell him, if it was true, it sure as hell wasn’t something the staff wanted spread around.

No nurse came. The ward was quiet except for the occasional noise from a sleeping patient. It was an unsettling atmosphere, as if they were suspended in time, waiting for something great and terrible to happen, something that would shake the asylum to its very foundations.

‘What do you mean you used to work here?’ Alex asked the patient, whispering.

‘I was an orderly,’ David replied, calmer now, but agitation still festered in his wide blue eyes. Alex felt a sick looking at them, but he couldn’t tear himself away. ‘I’d been working here for a year before I started noticing … strange things. Bad things. Patients I knew well… suddenly transferred to the prison block after a sudden incident, or no any reason at all. I never saw them again. Other patients returning from ‘therapy’ with wounds like I’ve never seen before.’

Alex thought of Simon’s scars, Pyro’s burns. Although Pyro had had his burns before coming here, could it be that this ‘therapy’ had made them worse? Then there were the unnatural scars on Pyro’s arms. That, too, could be explained by his illness, but…

‘Then what happened?’

David hesitated. In the end, it seemed his need to simply _tell_ someone won out.

‘I wrote to my superiors requesting reassignment to another facility - anywhere, just not at Mount Massive. I couldn’t take the secrecy, or shake the feeling that patients were being mistreated here. Twice I was ignored, but the third time…’

The older man stopped, emotion threatening to overcome him. But it wasn’t grief, it was frustration. It made his face burn red, his eyes glisten with tears.

‘The third time…I told them I’d go to the press if they didn’t hear me,’ he said. ‘That same night two security guards dragged me out of bed. They knocked me out, and when I came to, I was in a cell. Blaire was there, telling me I’m going to be treated for ... for paranoid fucking delusions!’

‘Blaire?’

‘Executive of Murkoff Corp. The kind of man who would happily strangle his own mother for a promotion.’

The name sounded vaguely familiar to Alex, but he couldn't place where he had heard it before.

'Murkoff runs the asylum?'

'Yeah. The warden is their front man, but they're the ones in control. They decide who stays... and who disappears.'

David went quiet, his eyes dim with despair.

‘Now they’ll never let me go. Nobody who could even slightly damage Murkoff can leave this place.’

Alex wracked his brain for something with which to console the patient. He still couldn’t rule out the possibility that the man really was delusional, but doubt gnawed at him.

Suddenly, he said:

‘The warden! The warden could help.’

‘They can’t do anything,’ David murmured. ‘Even if they're sympathetic to patients, they’re still subservient to Murkoff.’

‘“They”?’

‘The warden is genderless,’ the patient explained. ‘I don’t know why, I don’t know how, or anything beyond that.’

Alex was dumbstruck.

‘Are you serious?’

‘Yes.’

‘This place is crazy.’

‘Dangerous, too.’

David lifted one arm a little to look at his bandaged wounds. Regret was etched into his face.

‘I tried to end it. After the session... in my cell. It’s the only way out.’ He took a shuddering breath. ‘Tomorrow they’ll take me back to the prison block… and then I don’t know what.’

‘David,’ Alex pressed. ‘What the hell are they doing in here?’

‘I don’t know. If I knew, I’d tell you, but…’

A heavy silence settled. Alex didn’t know what to say. Whether this man was crazy or not, nothing he could say could make things better. Even Simon would be at a loss.

Then David spoke.

‘Sometimes you hear the patients talk about a “Walrider”.’

‘Walrider?’

‘I don’t know what it is. I’m heard them screaming its name at night, begging it to spare them. I wonder… if the therapy…’

David shivered.

Alex didn’t know whether he wanted to go on asking questions. He felt like a man purposefully wading into a bog of quicksand, hope for salvation fading with each step forward. 

_They say ignorance is bliss, but look where that got David._

‘What is this therapy?’

‘The patients talk about an  _Engine_. I haven’t experienced it yet, but if what I went through yesterday was anything like it… my brain’s going to be ripped to shreds.’

The patient's shaking hands gripped his sheets, and a cold sweat dampened his forehead.

‘You’re strapped into a chair with a camcorder facing you. You’re forced to look at a big screen. They show you… the ugliest things." David shut his eyes tight, his face twisted in agony. 'I can’t describe them. Don’t make me.’

‘I won’t, don’t worry.’

‘They… they burrow into your mind like maggots and feast. They only stopped because I tried to bite my tongue out. But the dreams that night…’

Alex felt cold all over, like Death’s hand had stroked his cheek. He needed to talk to the warden. He needed Simon. Simon, Pyro, Dennis, anybody! He ached for Simon’s smile, his comforting voice…

Swallowing hard, he opened his mouth, but any further questions he might have formulated died on his lips.

David was trembling all over, and tears began to leak from his eyes once more.

‘Oh God, help me…’ he whispered. ‘Oh sweet Jesus…’

Desperately, the patient reached out and grabbed Alex’s hand. David’s was cold and clammy. Looking into the man’s eyes, Alex saw his father at the last.

‘Please…’ he begged. ‘Please don’t let me sleep. I can’t bear it. The nightmares - _please_.’

The lump in Alex’s throat ached and his own eyes were filled with tears.

‘I’ll stay, Dad,’ he murmured. ‘I’ll stay.’

David stared, slowly drawing back his hand.

‘Alex…’

Alex could not hear him. He only repeated his promise.

‘I’ll stay, I’ll stay. I love you. I’ll stay, I’ll stay, I love you, I love you…’

* * *

Sometime in the early morning, a nurse accompanied by two male orderlies came into the infirmary. Seeing them, David threw himself out of bed and bolted for the door. The orderlies caught him, dragging him back as he thrashed and screamed. Alex jumped into the fray, fighting to prize the patient from their grip, but a swinging arm sent him crashing to the floor. Weakened by lack of food, Alex staggered to his feet, his head whirling, just in time to see a nurse administering the sedative.

‘Let him… go… you bastards!’ Alex wheezed, collapsing to the floor. David whimpered as his strength was sucked out of him. Once he was out, the orderlies heaved his lifeless body onto the gurney.

Alex could only crawl helplessly after them as they wheeled David out. Tears choked him and he moaned.

 _The room’s pale walls burned inside his mind, and the sterile smell of the ward permeated his senses. The bed with the body lying lifeless on it was as still. The aching loneliness of that room whispered the awful truth: '_ _There were two people here once.’_

A nurse helped him to his feet and put him to bed as patients, disturbed by the noise, began to cry out, shout and wail from their beds.

_‘Nurse! Hey, nurse…!’_

_'Oh God! Please not me! Not me…!’_

_'Warden!’_

_'I hear you, I hear you…Dr Wernicke!’_

Alex pulled his bedsheets tight over his head to block out the noise. A corrosive terror was spreading through his body that he couldn’t stop. He wanted it to end. He wanted Simon. He wanted Dad…

_What the hell is this place?!_

As the nurses moved in to calm the agitated patients, Alex heard the terrified sobs of the patient in the bed to his left, huddled and shaking. He was whimpering to himself, praying, begging.

The words Alex picked up next made him go cold.

‘ _Walrider, please don’t let them take me…_ ’


	11. The Engine

Alex barely touched the food by his bed. Blinking in the washed-out light of the infirmary, he watched the patients who were well enough wander about, some muttering, others silent. One shaven-headed older patient with a badly scarred left eye and heavy-set features stopped near Alex’s bed, staring into the middle distance.

Following his gaze, however, Alex saw that the patient was actually looking at the empty bed David Annapurna had occupied the night before.

After a moment, he said: 'So they took him.'

Alex said nothing.

'He was good to us,' the patient went on. His eyes were glazed over. 'One of the only people who cared. But there’s no place for someone like that here.'

'What do you think they did to him?' Alex asked. The way the other patient spoke chilled him. It was like listening to the dark tidings of a seer.

The patient did not look his way.

'The Engine,' he murmured. 'First the cells, then the Engine. They’ll burn everything good out of his brain and leave the nightmares.'

Alex clenched the bed sheets tightly and swallowed. This could all just be the ravings of a madman, but the patient’s words found their way into his head and settled, cold and sucking, on his brain. This had to be madness. It couldn’t be real. Could it?

Alex thought of the Warden, of Dr Felix, of David Annapurna, Simon, and the groans and whimpers of the patients the previous night. There was something wrong with this place. The uncertainty he had felt before was gone now. It felt good to at least be sure of where things stood between himself and the asylum. Swallowing to moisten his dry mouth, Alex addressed the patient again. He feared the answer, but staying in limbo on this matter was not an option.

'What is the Engine?'

The patient’s left eye twitched, but the horrific thousand-yard stare never wavered.

'It makes you see the darkest moments of your life,' he said. 'Makes you live it, breathe it. It takes your personal hell and brings it to life.'

'Where is it?'

Emotion was beginning to creep into the patient’s face. Crimson blotched his cheeks, the muscles in his throat quivered, and his blank expression began to crack and crumble. Water began to well up in his blue, fathomless eyes.

The sight tore at Alex’s heart, and a fresh wave of fear seized hold of his heart.

' _Where is it?_ ” he pressed. ' _Who does it take? Why?_ ”

The patient bit his lip, struggling against his own humanity.

'We’re all gonna die,' he whispered, before collapsing into tears. Falling to his knees, the patient clutched himself and sobbed. 'I don’t wanna die. I don’t wanna die God!'

Alex leapt out of bed and went to the patient’s side, putting his arms around him. He scanned the room with a glance. There was no orderly in sight, and the other patients barely looked their way. That was good.

'Hey, I’m sorry,' he said. 'I didn’t want… don’t worry, we’ll help each other out. OK?'

The patient’s body shook under Alex’s hands, and tears spilled down his face as he sucked in a trembling breath.

'There’s nothing… nothing we can do,' he choked. 'They take and destroy who they want… when they want.'

Alex felt his hands begin to tremble. He wanted so badly to say something that would comfort the stricken patient, but he barely knew about the terrible thing which caused him so much anguish, let alone how or why it existed in the first place. The bottomless chasm of his ignorance made him feel so small, it was almost as if he was back in that wreckage, in that hospital room, shaking and powerless in the face of a force he could not fight.

Death held its skeletal hand over Mount Massive Asylum, and no-one felt its cold touch more keenly than the patients who cowered beneath it.

'Let’s stick together,' Alex offered feebly, rubbing the patient’s back. 'Anybody who tries to get you…'

'They into your room when you’re asleep,' the patient whispered. 'They come and drag you out and…'

'I can hide under your bed,' Alex cut in. 'I can hide there, and if they try to… I’ll stop them.'

The patient raised his head and stared wide-eyed at Alex as if seeing an alien in human skin. Kindness and humanity were such foreign concepts in this wretched place.

'Are you crazy?' he murmured. 'You’ll just get taken too!'

Alex opened his mouth when he remembered Simon, Pyro and Dennis. He shut it again. He could no longer say that he didn’t care about his life, even if that was the true emotion of his heart.

'Alex!'

Alex turned and saw Simon hurriedly approaching them, concern etched all over his scarred face.

'Are you OK?'

Alex smiled to pacify him.

'I’m fine,' he said. 'This guy just… got upset.'

'Isaac,' said the blue-eyed patient suddenly. 'My name’s Isaac. Thought somebody should know before they get me.'

'Isaac,' Alex urged. 'Listen, even if it might be crazy, I still want to help you. But if I can’t, then surely the Warden—'

'The Warden can’t be everywhere,' Isaac cut in, as if angry at ever having hope in the white-clad overseer. 'He might be the only damn body who cares about us in this place, but that doesn’t mean he can help us all the time. When the cat’s away…'

The patient lowered his head, biting his lip.

Alex had no idea what to say to this man. They were in the exact same position, but he still was so much less informed as to the true nature of the asylum that it made it impossible to comfort him to any reasonable degree. It was more than likely that Isaac was right. He could not help him, and trying would only cause more trouble. It made Alex’s heart hurt to acknowledge it, and the fear he had felt before clenched its gnarled fist into his brain harder than before.

He looked at Simon, standing by just as helpless as he was. They locked gazes. Alex was determined to get answers from the patient if he could. Simon had been here longer, there was at least a chance that he knew things Alex didn’t.

Isaac suddenly raised a tear-stained face up to his as he clutched the front of Alex’s uniform.

'Promise you’ll remember me,' he pleaded. 'Promise me!'

Alex opened his mouth to say he shouldn’t speak like that, but the words wouldn’t come.

He nodded.

A small smile of relief softened Isaac’s face for a moment before it crumpled up in anguish, and still desperately clinging on, he wept into Alex’s shoulder. His heavy sobs shook his body and made tears well up in Alex’s own eyes. Not knowing what else to do, yet feeling that this was probably the best thing he could do, Alex held the patient tightly to him and would not let go, even when two orderlies came to take Isaac from him.

'Come on now, he needs rest. Not to mention he hasn’t taken his medication yet,' said one; a chubby man with a pair of tiny, glistening blue eyes and an ugly grin.

'He’s fine here,' said Alex, staring him down with equal contempt.

Simon moved closer, putting a hand on his shoulder, whispering nervously.

'Alex—'

'It’s fine.'

Isaac had spoken, raising himself unsteadily to his feet and taken hold of by the two orderlies.

Alex got up, shaking Simon off.

'But – Isaac—'

Isaac smiled a small, tired smile.

'It’s fine.'

The fat orderly and his companion moved to escort the patient.

Isaac didn’t take his eyes off Alex as he was turned away.

'Remember,' he said. 'You promised.'

Flanked by the orderlies, Isaac was slowly walked back up the ward and put into a bed.

Alex was silent for a few moments as he fought to piece together and make sense of everything he had seen and heard in the last twenty-four hours. Isaac’s smile and final words chilled him, and he shivered.

Simon put a hand on his arm, peering anxiously into his face.

'Are you OK?'

Alex looked at him. 

'Simon,' he said, 'it’s probably not a good idea to talk about it here, and I don’t know when they’ll let me out of this damned infirmary, but when I am, I want you to tell me everything you know about the Engine.'

The look of terror on the patient’s face made Alex almost want to put those words back into his mouth, but he couldn’t. He had to know.

* * *

The next day, a doctor came to check on him, and decided that he was fit enough to leave the infirmary. He was to be minded at meal times and an enriching diet would be provided for him. Alex looked for Isaac, and spotted him sitting on the side of his bed. Noticing him, the patient raised a hand in a wave.

A lump in his throat, Alex waved back.

That lunchtime Alex found the doctor had been true to his word, and the cooks provided him a fat-rich meal for him. After the stress and fatigue of the previous nights, Alex was starving, and his stomach cried out for food.

Getting his helping, he scanned the cafeteria for Simon among the rows of filled seats. Alex saw him sitting in the exact same place as before, with Pyro and Dennis.

Approaching their table, Alex first caught the attention of Simon, who beamed on seeing him and gestured to the seat which he had once again saved for him. Alex couldn’t help but smile before sitting down. Nurses hovered close by, watching them.

'How’re you feeling?' Pyro asked, assessing Alex with his good eye.

With some hesitation, Alex replied: 'Better. But I saw and heard a lot of fucked up shit in that infirmary, and... I was hoping you guys could help me understand some of it.'

Pyro looked surprised, but he nodded.

'I’d be glad to,' he said, adding, grimly: 'Beats dwelling on the nightmares.'

Alex’s blood went cold and he remembered Isaac’s words.

_First the cells, then the Engine. They’ll burn everything good out of his brain and leave the nightmares._

Pyro gave him a quizzical look.

'Hey, you OK? I didn’t mean to scare you,' he said, trying to crack a smile. It curled nastily on the bad side of his face, like a sneer, but it was meant kindly.

Shaking himself out of it, Alex went back to eating.

'It's nothing, I'm fine.'

_I'm fine._

'—That’s – it’s related to one of the things I want to talk about,” he said. “Besides, after what happened the night before last… I don’t think you could scare me any more.'

'Wh-wh-what d-do you w-want to t-t-talk about?” Dennis stammered. It seemed the nameless, shy personality had the reigns for the moment. Alex preferred it to the more noxious, aggressive ones. He wanted to engage with Dennis, find out more about him. So far his attempts at conversation had been thwarted by Dennis's other personalities, but there was hope yet.

Swallowing a mouthful, Alex replied: 'I want to talk about the Engine.'

Simon desperately shushed him, eyes darting frantically around to see if anyone had heard, particularly at the nurses and their watchful eyes. Dennis’s face had turned a shade paler, and Alex could have sworn he saw the patient’s lower lip quivering. Pyro stared, dumbstruck, before recovering his composure with a sigh.

'That isn’t something we can talk about here,' he said. 'We’ll have to finish up and go outside.'

Alex was stunned. They continued to eat in silence before leaving the table and going out to the courtyard. The chilly morning air tickled Alex’s face as they sat down together on the bench where Alex had first met Simon.

Pyro broke the silence with a question.

'So, what happened in the infirmary after we left?'

Alex told them about David Annapurna, the other patients, and Isaac; how they all appeared to fear the thing they called the Engine, which seemed to have the power to ruin the minds of the people on whom it was inflicted. Alex told them how one patient had fearfully cried out the name of a Dr Wernicke, a man of whom he had never heard or seen. 

Processing all this, Pyro and Simon exchanged grim looks.

'The Engine definitely exists,' the burned patient said finally. 'I don’t know why, or for what, but it’s real. I’ve been in it.' At this Pyro began to trace the lines of the deep scars on his arms. 'These weren’t here before,' he said. 'You don’t need to give yourself cuts like these to die. Then they put me in the Engine and…' He swallowed. 'They showed me... sick, ugly things.'

Pyro clasped his hands tightly together, and Simon put a hand on his shoulder. Pyro cracked a small smile.

'I’m OK,' he said. 'My burns weren’t as bad as they are now either. Showing me those things… burning them into my brain… every bad thought, every time I’d thought I’d be better off dead… it was like being tortured by flames all over again. My skin burned, not literally, of course, but it felt like it. The scars on my arms split open and became what they are now. I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I didn’t do this to myself. That I can promise you.'

His mouth dry, Alex managed to ask:

'Where is this Engine?'

'I was put out after a struggle with the bastards who took me,' Pyro said. 'But once I came to inside the Engine. It felt like I were underground. The ceiling was vaulted and way too high for it to be in this building. It was a huge chamber with a huge screen on which those… things… were projected in front of me. There were tubes in my nose, my mouth…'

Dennis was shaking, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead.

Seeing this, Simon quietly offered to take him somewhere else. The younger patient agreed, and Pyro and Alex were left alone on the bench.

'Simon couldn’t tell you much different about the Engine, I don’t think,' Pyro said. 'He hasn’t talked about it, but he told me he was in it once. That was right before he…' The patient shook his head. 'No, it wouldn’t be right for me to tell you. Simon ought to, when he wants.'

Alex suddenly felt very cold and very afraid.

'So they show you… memories?' he asked.

'No, no, not like that. They show you images and footage that bring them out. The memories we’d rather forget, the ones that bring out our worst sides. The ones that got us in here in the first place.'

Alex was at a loss of what to say. All of this sounded insane, something out of a science fiction movie. Was it possible that most or every patient here just shared the same delusion? Even if he was certain something was not right with this asylum, part of him still desperately tried to reject the idea of something like the Engine existing.

The Warden came to his mind. The Warden would know. Even if it was a long shot, Alex felt strongly that the mysterious overseer would be able to confirm or deny the reality of the Engine, once and for all.

'I know this is hard to take,' Pyro said, 'and I wish there was something I could say to make it easier, or give you some hope, but I can’t.'

Alex shook his head.

'It’s fine. Who’s Dr Wernicke?'

'No idea. I remember hearing an old man’s voice in the nightmares I had afterwards, but I never got the kind of idea of who he is that the others have.' Pyro frowned, the burned side of his face puckering. 'Perhaps because my nightmares didn’t last so long, or go on for as long. Anyway, from what I’ve gathered from the others, he’s one of the top bods here. I’ve never seen him in person though.'

Alex processed this information in silence. Pyro’s answers were letting out a horde of questions in his mind, so much that it was hard to keep track of them all.

'This is going off topic,' Pyro said suddenly, 'but how good is your German?'

'Fluent.'

Pyro looked impressed.

'Really? I remember studying it at school, but I wasn’t interested. _Entschuldigung_.'

Alex smiled.

 _'Kein Problem.'_  The words felt strange on his tongue, and they hit a tender spot deep inside his heart. He blinked to stop his eyes welling up, but they did.

Pyro put an arm around him.

'Aw, kid,' he said. 'I’m sorry.'

Alex shook his head, rubbing his eyes.

'Both my parents are… were second-generation Germans,' he said, trying to focus on speaking rather than the pain. 'I learnt everything I know from home.'

The burned patient nodded appreciatively and they were quiet for a few moments, looking out at the courtyard and the activities of the patient within its parameters.

'At lunch... you mentioned nightmares,' Alex spoke up tentatively. 'Were they…?'

'About Wernicke? No. They were… the usual. About the fire that caused _this_.' Pyro motioned to his burned side. 'The time in the Engine 's it a fuck-load worse.'

'Sorry.'

The patient shrugged.

'What for? I was straight with you in the infirmary, and I’m not going to stop now just because you ask questions,' he said. 'Hell, I’m gonna encourage it. Questioning things keeps your mind your own. Keeps you human.'

At this Pyro looked Alex directly in the eyes, as if to burn his philosophy into his younger companion’s mind.

'You have to fight, kid. I know this might sound rich coming from a guy who sometimes can’t see the point in getting out of bed in the morning, but I’m telling you now, as a man who got himself out of bed despite everything – _fight them_. Fight them with tooth and nail. If they try and take you, bite their fucking throats out and rip them limb from limb if you have to. Don’t let them ruin you. _Don’t let them_.'

After a few more seconds of Pyro’s intense stare, the patient loosened his grip and sat back, smiling.

'Alex, I like you. You’re a smart young man with a good heart. Simon wouldn’t love you like he does if you weren’t.'

Tears pricked Alex’s eyes and he bit his lip. He didn’t know if they were for Pyro's words, anguish from the part of him that wished for death, or both. 

'Hey, hey, no more tears,' Pyro said. 'I know crying is good sometimes, but you’ve got to hold on. Crying won’t help you against them. You have to keep yourself secret, so to speak. Stop them from reading you, taking everything they might want from you. You saw how easily Ford got Simon to spill his feelings for you.'

Alex blinked hard and sniffed.

'Simon told you about that?'

'Yeah. After we left you in the infirmary.' Pyro smiled with a strange, almost nostalgic look in his eye. 'He's head over heels.'

Alex said nothing, staring at his shoes.

'The feeling's not mutual,' the patient remarked. 

'There's too much shit going on to know what I feel.'

Pyro nodded, conceding.

'Absolutely.'

'I _like_ him,' Alex stressed. 'I really do. He's a nice guy, one of the nicest I've ever known, but...'

'Hey, I get it.' Pyro patted him on the back. 'I've been in the dating scene a lot longer than you. You're not obligated to return what you don't share.'

Alex rubbed his eyes, feeling strangely warm. For a moment, he could almost believe that he was talking to his father again.

'You've got enough to deal with,' Pyro went on. 'Survive this hellhole, then decide how you feel.'

Before Alex got a chance to reply, he was distracted by the approaching figure of Simon. Distress quivered in his eyes.

'There's a storm coming,' he said, casting a nervous glance at the sky. Following his gaze, Alex saw dark clouds gathering overhead. They certainly looked ready to unleash a lot of rain and noise.

'Are you scared?' Alex asked.

Simon shook his head.

'Not me. But Dennis... He ran inside the second he saw the clouds. If it all comes down...'

Alex got to his feet.

'Then we've got to find him.'

Pyro stood.

'Simon's right. I've seen Dennis when a storm's hit, and it's not good. Let's go.'

They were just inside the asylum when the first thunderclap burst. 


	12. The Liar

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update again. It's been a very trying time - during the last two chapters I was very unhappy and my mental health was suffering due to the ramifications of the environment in which I was working at the time (abroad, as an au pair, to a frankly terrible family, to cut a long story short). While the effects are still present, I'm much better off at home than I was, and so I'm determined to continue this story. Pyro's words in the previous chapter were as much a boost for the soul that I needed as Alex did.
> 
> I hope this newest chapter doesn't disappoint.

They headed for the cafeteria. In their minds it was the first place to look, and seeing two orderlies rush by as they entered only strengthened their belief that he would be there.

Only those patients too damaged to go anywhere without aid remained in the cafeteria. After lunch no patient who cared for even a shred of privacy and the illusion of freedom would stay in it. Now replacing the hubbub of chatter was the sound of impatient voices and the occasional sob.

Five orderlies surrounded a table in the far right corner of the room, intent on the patient huddled underneath it. The voice left no doubt; it was Dennis.

One of the orderlies held out a hand and offered a tablet.

With a scream of rage, Dennis slapped the orderly’s hand away, and retreated further under the table.

Approaching, Alex knelt to get a better look. It was a pitiful sight. Dennis’s entire body shook, clutching and scraping desperately at himself, breathing haggardly as tears dampened his white terror-stricken face. His mind was a mess – his personalities warred amongst themselves, but the fear came from a place deep inside Dennis than none of them could quell. At the mercy of his own terror he cowered and whimpered as thunder rumbled in the distance.

‘Dennis,’ Alex said. ‘Dennis, hey. It’s me.’

The patient looked up, and recognition lit up in his eyes as fresh tears welled up.

‘D-d-don’t let ‘em t-take me!’ he begged. ‘D-don’t…’

‘Dennis—’

‘You’re in the way,’ one orderly scowled, turning on Alex. ‘Get lost.’

‘No. Dennis is my friend,’ Alex shot back. His wandering eye caught sight of a syringe in the hand of one of the orderlies – a black haired giant of a man who stood apart from his colleagues, observing the distressed patient with dispassionate, piercing eyes. He was assessing Dennis, ready and waiting for the moment the patient became an immediate threat. And if things continued like this, the chances were high.

‘Let me talk to him,’ Alex pressed.

The scowling orderly bared his teeth as he snarled: ‘What did I say? Get lost. This is our job.’

‘And you’re doing so well!’ Alex marvelled, smiling.

The orderly stepped forward, but his giant colleague grabbed hold of his shoulder and stopped him short.

‘Cool it, Jack,’ said the giant firmly. ‘Let them talk. See what happens.’

With a look that could kill, Jack stepped back. Time was of the essence, and Alex moved in, getting as close as he could without scaring Dennis more than he was already. The patient stared at him like a trapped animal, overcome with tremors.

Calmly, Alex said: ‘Dennis, hey. Don’t worry, you’re going to be fine. What’s the matter?’

‘Th-there’s water… c-coming down on us,’ Dennis whimpered. ‘It’s gonna - it’s gonna take everything… S-sooner or later, everything comes apart…’

‘You think this place is going to flood?’

Dennis yelped as another thunderclap rolled overhead, clutching himself as if everything was about to collapse on top of him.

‘W-we’re gonna die!’ he wailed. ‘I don’t wanna die! Pa, I don’t wanna die!’ A moment later and Dennis’s face contorted in a tear-streaked, feverish anger and Pa snarled: ‘Shut your fuckin’ trap you miserable little shit! What good does your cryin’ do?’ Dennis whimpered, shaking his head with a moan of agony, pleading with his parent for mercy.

_‘Pa-a-a..!’_

Alex remembered Isaac’s agonised cry. _“I don’t want to die, God!”_

His heart ached for Dennis, but what could he do to help someone so deeply embedded in their own fear and torment? The doctors didn’t know what to do with him – although granted some just outright revelled in Dennis’s pain – and aside from the moment where he had comforted Dennis when he had been left alone by a malicious Dr Ford, Alex had barely interacted with him to any meaningful degree.

Wait! Alex thought hard. He couldn’t disregard that moment where Dennis, having dutifully waited for his return in spite of almost every other part of himself telling him he was a fool, saw Alex and Simon walk through those doors and show him that they cared. Dennis learnt that there were at least two people who gave a damn, people he could trust. Trust was key – and the staff of Mount Massive would never have that from him.

I need to remind him that I’ve got his back.

But first he had to do something to alleviate the immediate threat Dennis perceived in the storm without callously dismissing it. The fear was real to Dennis.

‘Listen, Dennis,’ he said. ‘I know you’re scared. But it’s going to be OK.’

‘B-but the water…’

‘Look.’ Alex waited until the patient was paying full attention. He then put his hands in a raised steeple position. ‘We’re on a mountain, right?’

Dennis nodded, confusion in his wide eyes.

‘Well, all the rain’s going to do is flow right down the sides,’ – he traced the path down each hand with one finger of the other. ‘Like that. There’s nowhere for it to settle.’ Alex could see Dennis processing this information slowly in his mind - his eyes were truly windows to his soul – and it seemed as if he was accepting it.

‘Just like with the last pig in the fairy tale,’ Alex went on. ‘The wolf can blow and howl all he wants, but the brick house won’t budge.’

Dennis was calmer now, his fears still held sway of him.

‘B-but … what if…’

‘Even if something were to happen,’ Alex assured him, ‘it’d be OK. You have us.’ With Dennis uncomprehending, Alex moved back a little and gestured to Pyro and Simon standing close by, motioning for them to come closer. They did so, with Simon offering his usual friendly smile.

‘Even if something were to happen,’ Alex repeated, ‘we’d help you. We’d make sure you’d be safe. We’ll bust down the doors and get you out if we have to.’

Dennis stared at him with such wide-eyed bewilderment that for a moment Alex thought he had not heard him.

Finally he asked: ‘Why?’

Alex answered without any hesitation.

‘Because we’re friends. We _like_ you Dennis.’

Dennis bit his lip.

‘But Grandpa called you a Kraut.’

‘I told him,’ Simon said.

Dennis peered up at Alex like a child expecting punishment.

But Alex only smiled.

‘Dennis, I’ve been called Kraut and Fritz and every other name under the sun by friends and assholes alike,’ he said, grinning. ‘I’d heard it all by high school. It’s OK.’

One corner of Dennis’s mouth twitched.

Some of the knots in Alex’s stomach relaxed. He hoped he had gotten through. He held out a hand.

‘Come on. It’s going to be OK.’

Dennis looked at the hand, still, hesitant. Alex held his breath.

Outside a clap of thunder bellowed and sent a fork of lightening scurrying across the cloud-choked sky. Dennis flinched and whimpered.

Alex reached out and took hold of his hand.

‘Dennis, look at me. It’s OK.’

Dennis looked, and his face darkened with anger.

‘They’re lyin’ to you, boy,’ Grandpa hissed. ‘They always lie.’

‘Like when I said I would come back?’ Alex challenged.

The patient’s eyes widened with furious indignation. He jerked his head violently, then stilled. Lifting his eyes upward, Dennis fixed Alex with a stare. His expression had softened.

‘Alex has never lied to me,’ he said, and he took Alex’s hand. It trembled, but this was natural. Dennis’s fears had not been destroyed, nor had the other demons that afflicted him. That was still a long way off, but they had taken a vital step forward. Alex was confident of that. Strangely, he felt as if he had accomplished a great thing, and helping Dennis out from under the table to his feet, he couldn’t help but smile.

Put out, the orderlies tried to move them along and take charge of the situation, but Dennis refused to obey them, and so the men were forced to concede defeat. They would not, and certainly could not, leave everything to Alex and his friends. They lingered close by, watching closely.

As Alex moved to sit down at one of the tables with the other patients, Jack stopped him with a touch on his shoulder, and pressed something small into his hand.

‘Make him swallow this,’ the orderly whispered.

‘What is it?’

‘Antipsychotic. It’ll help calm him down.’

‘But he’s not—’

‘Not now,’ Jack cut in, ‘but he could lose it at any time unless he takes this.’ The orderly’s lip curled. ‘Pretty words only go so far.’

Frowning, Alex closed his hand around the pill and sat down at the table. Simon was busy keeping Dennis occupied, but Pyro had noticed the whispered exchange, and asked: ‘What was that about?’

Alex showed him the pill.

‘They want me to give him this.’

‘Fuck, they’re practically admitting they’re incompetent,’ Pyro grumbled.

‘Should I give it to him?’ Alex asked. ‘Does this… really help?’

‘Yeah. It’ll calm him down enough to get him into bed. Maybe even to sleep.’

Alex hesitated, closing his hand and feeling the pill on his skin. He felt dirty, going along with doctors who didn’t give two shits about Dennis’s wellbeing and who were happy to let patients do their jobs for them for convenience’s sake. But Alex cared about Dennis, and Pyro cared. Fear of breaking the trust as one breaks skin healing over a bleeding wound churned in Alex’s stomach.

There was a dark rumbling outside, and Dennis jumped, his wide watery eyes fixing on the clouds behind the windows.

‘Dennis,’ Alex said, catching the patient’s attention. Simon looked as well. ‘Here, take this – it’ll help you feel better.’

Alex held out his hand with the pill resting on his palm, showing him.

Dennis recoiled. He stared at the pill as if it was poison.

‘No! N-not that! Please…!’

Simon put a hand on the patient’s trembling shoulder.

‘Junior, it’s OK. Alex wants to help you.’

Dennis’s bulging eyes moved from Alex and orderlies standing behind him. The knots in Alex’s stomach clenched tighter. Dennis was Dennis – or Junior – for now, but that could change in a heartbeat, and then they would lose him. He couldn’t lose him now.

‘Dennis,’ he said, keeping his voice level. ‘Remember what I said? We’re you’re friends. Not those bastards,’ - Alex jerked his head in the orderlies’ direction – ‘but us. We wouldn’t give you anything we thought would hurt you. Ever. OK?’

Dennis eyed the pill, his clammy hands clenching and unclenching.

‘They’re the enemy’s dogs, boy,’ hissed Grandpa. ‘They lie.’

‘Y-you’re the liar!’ Junior shot back. Dennis froze, the anger and hatred in his face melting away into a pallid horror that made Simon remove his hand from the patient’s shoulder. The sneer that replaced it made Simon flinch and seize the back of his chair.

‘Oh, yer talkin’ back, now, boy?’ came Grandpa’s slimy drawl. ‘After what you did?’

Dennis snatched the pill from Alex’s hand and swallowed it down like a man grasping his last chance at life. He was breathing hard, and the orderlies moved in.

Jack opened the patient’s mouth, holding it open as he inspected every nook and cranny for the pill, while Dennis stared upward into his cold, unfeeling eyes. The way the orderly was holding Dennis’s mouth reminded Alex of how the vet had inspected the teeth of his dog.

Satisfied, Jack let Dennis go and stood back.

‘Well, fuck, you did it,’ he said, casually patting the patient’s face without looking at him, before moving away to re-join his colleagues.

‘You’re not going to just leave?’ Alex cried.

Jack looked at him with that smirk – that goddamned, filthy, smirk.

‘Sure. Dennis has his best buddies – he doesn’t need us.’

The giant orderly stayed behind as his colleagues left the cafeteria.

‘I’ll let Dennis into his room,’ he said, and with nothing more to say the giant escorted the group to the male ward. It was clear to Alex that the man wouldn’t have bothered if he were not one of the special individuals with the means to open – and, more importantly, lock – the doors to the patients’ rooms.

* * *

 

The worst of the storm seemed to be over, with there being very little trace of the howling wind, the rain or the thunder left to torment Dennis. The patient was still a pale, frightened man, and so Alex and his friends wasted no time in escorting Dennis to his room as a group.

While Simon and Pyro did most of the talking, Dennis was silent, barely responding to their efforts. Alex watched him, wondering what thoughts could be jangling around his mind. Was he in the grip of a silent battle between the many personalities that ruled him? Should they interfere – and would doing so violate Dennis’s fight for self-discovery?

It was in this moment, given everything that had preceded it, that Alex realised just how little he knew about Dennis. Not only him, but everyone with whom he had come into contact since arriving at Mount Massive. As far as understanding of their demons went, Alex was no more aware than he was of relative strangers like Isaac.

Of course, that afternoon with Dennis it had been different, but Alex had been working off of assumptions and emotion-driven leaps of faith. They had been well intentioned, empathetic, and had ultimately hit their mark, but he could not rely on this method without really knowing Dennis the man instead of Dennis the man in a huddled quivering ball under the table.

The words of the Grandpa personality haunted him.

_“Oh, yer talkin’ back, now, boy? After what you did?”_

Mount Massive was a mental institution for the criminally insane – Dennis, like Pyro, Simon, Isaac, and all the rest of the asylum’s patients, were or had been a danger to others or themselves or both. Alex, of course, was no exception.

_After what you did…_

Alex’s thoughts were interrupted by the loud clanking sound of the door to Dennis’s room being opened. As Dennis was ushered inside, Alex stepped forward.

‘Wait!’

Everyone looked his way, and Alex faltered for a moment under the giant’s cold gaze.

‘I—there’s something I want to give to Dennis,’ he explained. ‘Can you open my door too?’

‘What is it?’

‘It’s something that’ll help him sleep better.’

The giant frowned before walking further up the corridor to Alex’s room. With the door open, Alex went inside and picked up Otto from his bed. Looking into the bear’s sodden old face. All the years, all the memories of having Achim and his father in his life where inside him. The good times and bad beat inside the bear's soft chest like a heart, even if his button eyes were black and cold and accusing. He shivered, swallowing down the lump in his throat before exiting the room and walking back to where Dennis and the others stood.

Feeling the bear’s body burning under his fingers, Alex held it out to Dennis.

‘This is Otto,’ he said with a smile. ‘He’s my bear – has been since I was a kid. I want you to have him.’

Dennis’s wide blue eyes alternated from the bear to Alex in bewilderment.

‘D-d-don’t you w-want him?’

'This guy’s helped me through a lot of bad nights, and I want him to do that for you.’

There was a pause before the patient’s hands tentatively reached for the bear, faltering once, grasping it, and finally, with the shyness of a child, holding it close to his chest. Dennis looked at the bear’s face and the faintest hint of a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

There was pain in Alex’s heart as he watched Dennis disappear inside the room with Otto, but he ignored it. The orderly closed and locked the door, and, without a word, left them alone.

Simon, his face full of concern, spoke first.

‘That was awfully nice of you, but… are you gonna be OK?’

Alex smiled wider.

‘What? Sure, I’ll be fine. He needs him more than me anyway.’

‘But—’

‘Simon, leave it.’

Pyro put his foot down, and in spite of Simon’s misgivings, the subject was dropped. Soon it was time for them all to sleep, and they parted.

The night that unfolded was the longest night since Alex arrived at the asylum. His heart and soul ached for Otto. Biting his lip through tears, the hatred he held for himself kicked into overdrive and raged inside him.

_You’re forgetting them, you bastard. You’re forgetting Achim, forgetting Dad. You’re forgetting what happened, and why it’s your fault for living. You want to live now? Are you fucking kidding me? Look what you did! Your only friend all this time, all those beautiful, happy years… thrown away!_

Punching the mattress Alex swore and cursed himself. 

_I gave him to Dennis because Dennis NEEDS him! Dennis needs him, whereas I…_

He tried to imagine Dennis, and how something soft and comforting to hold and clutch and cry into as the rain and thunder rolled overhead would help.

_Are you saying Otto didn’t help you?_

‘No!’

The agonising truth of the matter could not be ignored. Otto had been hurting him more than he had helped in the past few months, and in a moment of selfishness Alex had given him away. He was happy if Dennis was happy, but to be happy was…

_Where do you get off thinking that you should be saved?_

Alex moaned.

‘Fuck off – go away!’

With the image of a peacefully sleeping Dennis in his mind, Alex sobbed.

_The world isn't empty anymore... I..._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this chapter focused on Dennis. There was a definite danger of him being tossed to the wayside in favour of the other characters, and I wasn't having that. Dennis, I feel, is a very underrated character in the Outlast canon. I hope I can do his character justice with my take on him and his backstory (to come later!).
> 
> This one is quite personal for me, as, like Dennis, I was once gripped with a terrible anxiety regarding the weather (essentially expecting the worst out of clouds, the rain, etc). I know very well the feeling of being crippled by an irrational but all-powerful sensation of dread and terror, and I hope I reflected that well here.


	13. Subject: Patient ALEXANDER KOLM

From: k.vigalondo@murkoffcorp.us.com    
To: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com   
Subject: Patient ALEXANDER KOLM

Hi Felix,

God, will things never change? I envy you up there. I have to say, I liked Billy better when he could talk, even when most of the stuff he came out with was delusional babbling. Now he’s just a naked kid in a test tube… or bubble.

His dream state hasn’t changed in months, and I’m starting to wonder if this whole thing isn’t just a fool’s errand. Maybe the old man was wrong about Billy.

I hear you’re patenting a new candidate for the Engine. I looked over his file yesterday, and to be honest I have my doubts. His story isn’t the worst we’ve got from our patients, not by a long shot. Gluskin and Walker have him beat by a mile, and they’re not the only ones. Are you sure he’s up for the task? Of course, we can always try, but if he ends up doing better than either of those guys I’ll eat my hat.

Out of interest, has your Alex been having dreams yet? You’ve got him on medication now, and you say he’s been talking to the resident pyromaniac and DD? That’s a recipe for paranoia if I ever heard it. Those two have talked about Wernicke and the Walrider, and Pyro’s been in the Engine, from what the records say. It’s only a matter of time, I think, before our German friend starts seeing the dead German doctor and his friends.

Don’t be shy about filling me in if anything exciting happens. If not, I’m afraid I’ll join the loons upstairs!

Best,

Kurt

* * *

From: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com      
To: k.vigalondo@murkoffcorp.us.com  
Subject: RE: Patient ALEXANDER KOLM

Hi,

I'd better make more of an effort to come see you sometime. I don't think my conscience could take putting a buddy of mine in the Engine! 

Anyway, about Kolm - don't worry, I have my reasons, and I know he'll be a fine choice. 

Best,

Felix

 


	14. Disciple

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you see, Dennis has gotten quite a bit of focus over the past two chapters (this one included). This is in part due to the fact that Dennis is far more difficult to pin down as a character due to the complex and divisive (if not outright controversial) nature of his mental illness. 
> 
> He is the most difficult to sympathise with because he is so difficult to really get close to, unless you have the patience of a saint, like Simon, or the sheer dogged determination that has awakened in Alex recently, seeing much of himself in Dennis. There have been times when even I have been baffled by Dennis and have deliberated a lot with how to put him across to the reader and how to have my main character get close to him.
> 
> Then there's also the question of whether Dennis's illness is the result of malingering (as the doctors presume) or a genuine, rare, case. As you can tell, I'm going with the latter, almost purely on the basis of the following question:
> 
> If Dennis was faking his illness for attention, as Wolfram states in his letter to Ford in the DLC, why would he continue to talk among his 'family' when he thinks he is alone? Case in point: the entirety of his dialogue prior to being alerted of Waylon's presence in the attic during the riot? Besides that, given the nature of Mount Massive, if I knew I was sane I would be screaming my sanity from the rooftops in a bid to escape.
> 
> Of course this could be gross narcissism but... nope, I don't see it for him. Poor Dennis.
> 
> Hope you're all liking the story thus far. I know we're all waiting for shit to hit the fan (riot kick off) but I think it's paramount that I properly introduce and develop our cast before that happens (soon, don't worry!) You guys will tell me if I'm going too slow won't you?
> 
> Cheers,
> 
> Icefrosty

Alex awoke with a gasp, drenched in sweat and for several minutes unable to hear anything outside the pounding of his own heart and heaving of his breaths.

In his fitful slumber he had been attacked by a mass; a huge, black mass of something almost but not quite solid. The air was alive with the noise of thousands of angry bees. The mass bulged, shifted and expanded, blocking out every bit of light until he was trapped in a screaming tornado of black.

Whether it wanted to kill him or not, Alex couldn’t fathom, and he hadn’t waited around to find out. Wiping a trembling hand across his face, he calmed down enough to hear the sounds of the other patients leaving their rooms and walking about outside. Alex took a deep breath and sighed, feeling better.

Sliding his legs out of bed and fixing his hair, Dennis came into his mind. How had he passed the night? Better than he himself had, he hoped, as Alex made his way out into the corridor with the other patients.

After what was now a month spent in Mount Massive – he had checked – Alex had adapted to a routine. The days went by as follows: wake up, get dressed, brush teeth/hair etc., breakfast, medication, group session, a meeting with Dr Wolfram, a long break time, lunch, check-up, ‘recreational therapy’ (another break-time essentially), dinner, another group session, break, night meds, and bed.

In a way, he was glad for it. In the early days there had been little to do, and nobody seemed to care what he did, but now there was an agenda set, and Alex was on a path of sorts. Granted, his condition and stay in the infirmary had disturbed some of that routine several times, but now he was engaging. Part of him wondered whether he was doing the right thing, and the destructive part of him actively railed against doing anything at all.

For better or worse, Alex was toeing the line, and after the terror of the nightmare had subsided, realised that he was feeling better than he had in a while.

_You’re forgetting them, you’re forgetting them…_

_Shut up!_

Keeping his eyes away from the scattered photographs on his bedside table, Alex left his room and scanned the corridor for Dennis.

Alex spotted him standing outside his room with Otto clutched in both hands, staring at it like he had never seen a stuffed bear before.

Puzzled, Alex approached.

‘Hey Dennis, you alright?’

Dennis looked up. His eyes were wide with fright.

‘Alex, I…’ The patient swallowed, and tried again. ‘I… I w-woke up and… th-this bear was in – was in my bed.’ The confusion in the patient’s eyes was genuine. ‘How… I d-don’t kn-know how… it got there…’

Alex was stunned.

‘I gave you the bear, Dennis,’ he said. ‘It’s my bear, but I gave it to you.’

Dennis relaxed, but Alex was far from comforted. What else about that night had disappeared from Dennis’s mind?

‘There was a storm,’ Alex went on. ‘And you were scared…’

Dennis nodded.

‘Y-yes.’

Alex breathed an inward sigh of relief.

‘I-i-it’s gone now, isn’t it?’ asked Dennis, his eyes searching for a window, but finding none.

‘It’s gone Dennis,’ Alex soothed. ‘Don’t worry, it’s gone.’

Dennis smiled the second honest-to-God smile Alex had seen from him, and Alex couldn’t help but reciprocate. Looking closely, Alex could see dark shadows under the patient’s eyes, and his face was drawn and pale. While the vestiges of the terrible night before were present, Alex was happier seeing him able to smile at least.

Fumbling with Otto bear in his hands, Dennis asked: ‘D-d’you mind if I h-have him?’

Looking at Otto’s sad old eyes brought all those lost years back to him, and Alex's fingers itched to seize the bear and squeeze him tight and never let go. He blinked to stop tears welling up. He smiled.

‘Keep him.’

Alex accompanied Dennis back to his room, where the patient carefully placed the bear inside. Otto would be exclusively his night-time companion. Thinking about the kind of staff surrounding them outside the confines of their rooms, Alex thought it very wise. The sudden appearance of the bear in Dennis’s arms would be noted, logged, and, eventually, acted upon – and likely not in a way Dennis would like. Of course, then there was the other patients, some hostile to Dennis specifically, who could seize the chance of tormenting him.

This thought depressed Alex so much even the pain of the previous night lessened in his mind. Not even something as innocent as a teddy bear could live freely inside Mount Massive.

Alex’s heart broke a little more when he heard the vicious jibes coming from Dennis’s own mouth in the tones of his wretched family members.

‘A teddy, boy? You ain’t got the right to call yourself a man!’

‘I shoulda whipped you harder.’

Alex entered the room, seeing Dennis standing by his bed and clutching Otto in trembling hands.

‘Dennis,’ he said.

‘ _Go on, cry, you worthless fuck!_ ’

‘ _Dennis!_ ’

Alex took the patient by the shoulder and turned him his way. The look of pure agony on Dennis’s tear-streaked face stunned him into speechlessness. Any shred of doubt that this young man was crippled by a genuine mental illness died in Alex’s mind in that moment. The terror, pain and helplessness screamed out to him, and the cries echoed his own pitifully.

Finding his voice, Alex looked into Dennis’s eyes the same way he had on the day of the storm.

‘Dennis,’ he said. ‘It’s OK. You’re not weak, you’re not less of a man. You’re not worthless either. Otto was my bear, and I brought him here with me. I’m not weak, or less of a man. Otto is… was, everything I cherished about my life before all the pain… before this.’ He gestured around him. ‘As much as he also reminded me of my pain and guilt… he was the good times. Before I met you guys, he was the only thing in the world that could give me a damn bit of comfort.’ He stopped, his voice breaking up.

Dennis stared, spellbound.

Alex smiled. God, he hoped he was getting through. God he hoped the memory of this moment would remain intact.

‘It’s not wrong to want to be happy, Dennis,’ he said. ‘It’s not.’

Dennis’s lip began to quiver, his face reddening, his eyes shining with tears. A whimper escaped his lips before he crumpled and began to cry on Alex’s jumpsuit.

Alex held him, ignoring the orderly out in the corridor telling them to hurry off to breakfast already.

‘You tell ’em that, Dennis,’ he said. ‘You tell ’em that. OK?’

* * *

Being late for breakfast meant a longer queue, but eventually Alex and Dennis settled down to eat with Simon and Pyro. They had finished their meals, but had waited anxiously for their arrival. Simon was especially rattled, refusing to accept anything less than a point-by-point recount of why they had been late.

‘We were about to come looking for you,’ Pyro said, smiling faintly.

To Alex’s surprise, it was Dennis who informed the pair, careful to leave out out their conversation in his room. He was interrupted several times by his family members, but the story got told, and Simon was, for the most part, placated.

After breakfast and medication (in which Dennis refused to have any part) the group moved on to their first session of the day, joined by other patients. With another doctor controlling proceedings, the session passed without added trauma and relatively little upset. Dennis, once again, refused to speak about his fears or his past, and the doctor was forced to move on from him to the others.

‘Alex,’ the doctor said, turning to him with a smile. ‘You’re looking much better. How have things been?’

Alex hesitated. This man wasn’t Ford, but that didn’t make his smile any more genuine, nor his intentions any more pure, than either him or his colleagues. Alex had seen too much harm, too much hurt and ugliness.

_They take and destroy who they want… when they want._

‘Fine, doctor. Getting into the routine of things, I guess.’

‘Good. Anything else?’

‘Nothing special.’

The nurse on the doctor’s left made notes. Alex watched her out of the corner of his eye as the doctor turned to other patients for feedback.

Glancing at Simon, Alex saw he was about to speak up. A chill ran through him and he grabbed the patient’s hand. Simon stopped short, and Alex whispered: ‘ _Don’t_.’

‘What’s wrong?’ Simon whispered back.

‘Don’t you see? We can’t tell them about us… about our friendship. Not with Pyro or Dennis either. The less they know, the better.’

Simon looked troubled, but he understood, and stayed quiet. Alex had a hard time figuring him out. He had originally put it down to pure naiveté on Simon’s part, but considering the shady and sinister things Simon must have witnessed here, it seemed unfathomable. Only a blind idiot could fail to notice anything wrong with this place and the people in it.

Alex had also wondered whether Simon was just one of those people who craved company and validation, and while the latter was certainly true, the validation part was harder to swallow. Did he really trust the doctors enough to still place value on their opinions of who he liked, or loved for that matter? Was he that insecure that he needed to be constantly reassured that he was on the right path, with the right people?

It was moments like these where Alex wished he had something in which to collect his thoughts, a diary or something. His head hurt just thinking about Simon, let alone everything else.

Soon enough, the session ended, and the group parted. As usual, Alex attended his meeting with Dr Wolfram.

The older man looked happy to see him, and, like his colleague before him, remarked how well he looked. Alex certainly felt better physically – the dizzy spells, nausea and other symptoms of his malnutrition had all but vanished, and he was feeling stronger – but his mind was a different story.

What he had told Dennis that morning Alex did not believe for himself, and while his days felt fuller, the emptiness, grief and longing within him still ached. As with Pyro, the medication seemed to be doing its job in part, but they and his group could only do so much.

These, coupled with the utter lack of trust in the asylum faculty to truly help him – indeed, the idea that they were actively trying to prevent that – made Alex’s small steps towards recovery all the more pitiful in the grand scheme of things.

Relaying this to Dr Wolfram was a difficult task, fraught with risk. If he told him how little he trusted the asylum staff, what he had heard from Annapurna and the others, Wolfram would almost certainly put it down to the same attack of paranoid delusions that Annapurna was told to suffer from.

I could meet the same fate as him.

David Annapurna’s screams echoed in his head as he omitted his friends and put his improvement down to the medication he was taking, along with the chats with Wolfram. He felt guilty, but this was one of the only ways Alex could think of to protect them. He had to try.

To prevent further questions, Alex jumped at the opportunity to request a diary, in which to properly and privately formulate his thoughts.

‘I’ve got so much whirling around my head I don’t know what to do,’ he said.

Wolfram nodded.

‘Of course, that is understandable. It is very positive that you are trying to self-reflect in a healthy manner. I encourage you to make special effort to record good things that happen each day, no matter how small it is.’

After rummaging through some drawers and cabinets, Wolfram procured a diary and a pen and handed it to Alex.

Their meeting concluded, and Alex made his way to the courtyard where Simon and the others were waiting.

* * *

 He smiled when he spotted them, on the same bench where he and Simon had first met. He felt lighter just by recognising them. Simon was the first to notice him, and he beamed and waved. Guilt and pain pressed down upon Alex again, but it did not stop him from approaching the group.

As he did so, he noticed a familiar face of a patient making his way somewhere. Stopping to take a closer look, he recognised the man as Isaac.

‘Hey, Isaac!’ he called out, waving. ‘Hey, over here!’

Isaac, looking thinner than he had the last time they’d met, turned. There was a flash of recognition in his eyes, and with some hesitation, Isaac walked over.

‘Hey,’ he said, his voice having a raspy quality to it that hadn’t been there before. Alex did not like to imagine why. The nasty scar on his eye looked as if it had been rubbed raw, and parts were scabbing.

After a moment’s pause, Isaac remarked: ‘So you’re still here.’

Immediately Alex regretted ever calling the patient over, but he hadn’t the heart to turn him away either. Under the circumstances, Isaac’s demeanour was reasonable.

Lip curling awkwardly, Alex replied: ‘Still here. I was worried about you.’

‘You were?’

‘Yeah. Here, come meet my friends.’

Gesturing to the group on the bench, Alex was about to introduce them when Pyro interrupted. His burned features were creased as he glowered at the patient.

‘Isaac.’

Isaac was unmoved.

‘Pyro.’

‘You know each other?’ Alex asked.

‘We arrived at around the same time,’ Pyro explained. ‘Having the same illness brought us together, in a way.’ He scowled at Isaac. ‘But then this bastard decided I wasn’t worth his time.’

‘Idiot, what good are friends here? We’re all going to end up the same way. You know that.’

‘Stop it,’ said Alex, willing the terrible knots in his stomach to unravel. ‘Isaac, I understand—’

‘No, you don’t. You haven’t seen what they’re capable of. You haven’t seen the blood… what they take from people. It’s only a matter of time until we’re all…’

Dennis began to shake.

‘Sh-shut up! Y-you don’t… shut up!’

‘Isaac, it’s because we’re fractured like this that they’re winning!’ Alex’s desperation was obvious, but he couldn’t help it. ‘If we just…’

‘What? Joined together? Rioted?’ Isaac laughed. The hopelessness in his eyes frightened Alex to his core. He knew the look well, and it pierced his soul. ‘Please. You couldn’t organise these people if you tried. They want to save their own skin. Just living to see the next dawn is enough for them. They don’t want to accept it’s all a waste of time.’

Dennis whimpered and clutched Simon for comfort.

‘Even if that was true,’ Pyro began, standing up. ‘Wouldn’t you want your last days to mean something? God, the only reason I get up in the morning is because of these guys!’ He was breathing hard. ‘Besides… you give up, they win. They can take my life if they want, but I’m going to fight ’em every step of the way, goddamnit!’

‘Me too.’ Alex fought the lump in his throat to speak. ‘When I came here… all I could think about was death. But after meeting these guys… that changed. Not all of it, but enough. And if I’m gonna die, then…’ He swallowed. ‘Then at least it’ll be less miserable than yours, Isaac!’

All the rage that had been boiling inside him suddenly burst and overflowed and he spat out: ‘ _Fuck Ford! Fuck that son of a bitch! Fuck them all!_ ’

Tears were spilling down his cheeks now, but Alex didn’t care. He was terrified and angry, and for the first time in a long time he felt the will to fight for his existence. He had found meaning in Simon, in Pyro and in Dennis, even when the happiness they brought to his bleak world collided with the endless chasm of despair and loss in his heart. It was enough to want to live, even for another day, and he wasn’t going to let Isaac take that from him.

Isaac was stunned. He stared at Alex and Pyro as if they were alien beings.

‘You’re crazy,’ he said.

Alex snorted.

‘Well, we are in a madhouse.’

‘Quite.’

The new voice made them all jump and turn. Standing behind Isaac was a bald, elderly man dressed in black overalls with what looked like a makeshift white cross painstakingly stitched on the front, as if he were some sort of religious leader. He smiled jovially at Alex, and stepped closer towards him.

The discomfort on Isaac’s face, and that of the rest of the group, was not encouraging.

‘The nonbeliever does not appreciate your valour, young man,’ said the old man. His voice was quiet and kindly, but Alex kept up his guard.

‘I’m sorry, who’re you?’

The old man chuckled.

‘Apologies, I neglected to introduce myself. I am Martin Archimbaud. You may call me Father Martin. Many here do. What is your name, young man?’

‘Alex Kolm.’

The patient’s eyes widened.

‘Alexander?’

‘Y-yes.’

Martin looked at Simon.

‘Are you two friends?’

Simon nodded, gripping Dennis almost as tightly as Dennis gripped him.

The old man’s eyes lit up and he seized Alex’s arm with such sudden vigour that both Simon and Dennis yelled. Alex tried to take his arm back, but the patient’s grip was too strong. Martin’s eyes blazed with zealous passion, and he spoke with a feverish excitement.

‘You, my son! You, as like the son of the Cyrenian, Simon, are destined to bear the cross of our Lord! Our Lord, the Walrider, spoke to me of you, and bade me help you through the trials to come. We will all have our crosses to bear, but I have great hope for you, Alexander!’

Desperate to free himself, Alex pulled roughly and detached his arm from Martin’s hold.

‘Look, I’m sorry, but you have the wrong guy. I’m not…’

‘Oh, but you are!’ exclaimed the pseudo-priest, pointing to Simon, who flinched. ‘He! You and he are a sign! A sign that all is not yet lost! The Walrider knows the way. The Walrider speaks the truth among the poisonous liars that overrun this place! Trust in Him, and you shall prevail!’

‘That’s enough, Martin,’ Pyro said firmly, stepping in between the patient and Alex. ‘Move along.’

‘A nonbeliever would not understand the truth of the Walrider’s Word,’ Martin muttered. ‘I will take my leave.’ As the old man walked slowly on, he nodded towards Alex. ‘Until we meet again, Alexander. Take care of yourself.’

Alex could only watch until he was obscured from sight by the patients in the courtyard. The air had chilled since Martin had appeared to them, and Alex shivered.

‘That guy gives me the creeps,’ Simon murmured.

Alex gave him an empathetic look.

‘He creeps me out too. Jesus.’ He rubbed the part of his arm Martin had grabbed to rid himself of the sensation.

‘Don’t worry about him, kid,’ Pyro said, giving Alex a pat on the shoulder. ‘He’s always spouting that crap to people.’

‘So… he worships the Walrider?’

‘Yeah, pretty much. Don’t ask why. He likes to recruit the other patients to follow him.’

‘P-p-please s-stop talking about the… the W-Walrider!’ Dennis begged. ‘I-I… I don’t want to hear it! Please!’

Simon hugged him tight, soothing him.

‘Don’t worry, we won’t talk about it anymore.’ He looked at the others. ‘Right guys?’

They agreed. Alex wanted to stop talking about it as well. The more the Walrider was mentioned or invoked by the patients of Mount Massive, the more life seemed to breathe into what was nothing more than a figment of a few deluded patients’ imaginations. Its name spread in whispers throughout the asylum. Even an orderly like Annapurna had heard of it. With a presence like that, it wasn’t difficult to imagine how some could come to view it as the God of this hell.

Suddenly the memory of last night’s dream came to Alex’s consciousness, and he shivered again. The black mass, the swarm of flies… was that the Walrider? _That_ _thing_ was Father Martin’s God?

Isaac addressed Alex again, but his tone was no longer as cold as before. Perhaps he was remembering the last time they met. His expression had softened too.

‘You’re a good guy, Alex,’ he said. ‘I can’t say I share your view on things, but if I could spend some time with you…’

‘Sure,’ he said. ‘I’d like that.’

A ghost of a smile played on the corners of Isaac’s mouth. How long had it been since he had smiled at all?

His smile fading, the patient turned to Pyro.

‘I’m sorry about how I acted before,’ he said. ‘I just… this place, it… it just drains you. Even now, I can hardly see the point, but…’

‘I get it,’ Pyro said. ‘It’s OK. Let’s all stick together. If nothing else, we know we’re real. We know we give a shit about each other. Let’s not lose that.’

* * *

The rest of the day passed as normal until that evening, as the group, joined by Isaac, made their way back to their rooms for the night. Alex was showing the others his new diary, with Simon showing particular enthusiasm.

‘This is great! Now you can—’

The raging red face of a patient lunged into Alex's face and screamed.

‘THEY KILLED HIM! THEY FUCKING KILLED HIM!’

Alex yelled and threw himself backwards, the diary flying out of his hands and onto the floor. Pyro and Simon managed to catch him before he fell. Dennis collapsed onto the floor with a scream and clutched Alex’s legs. Before any of them had a chance to process what had happened, the patient had moved on and disappeared, leaving them stunned and gasping for breath.

‘Who… who the fuck… was that?’ Alex asked between pants. He could feel Simon’s trembling hands gripping him, and he was sure Pyro was shaking too.

‘I don’t know,’ Simon whispered. ‘I don’t know… My God…’

‘Everyone just breathe for a minute,’ Pyro said. ‘I don’t know who that bastard was…don’t worry, he’s gone now.’

Isaac picked up Alex’s diary and handed it to him.

Dennis sobbed on the floor.

‘That fucker,’ he hissed, his voice high-pitched as Timmy took hold. ‘That fucker, I’ll kill him…’

Alex knelt down and helped Dennis up.

‘Hey, hey, it’s alright. He’s gone, Dennis,’ he soothed. ‘He’s gone. Hold it together…’

Dennis, somewhat calmed, took several depth breaths. His face was sickly pale and sweat made his skin glisten under the weak corridor lights. His hands shook badly as they clutched Alex’s arm, and he did not let go until they reached the door of his room.

‘Otto will keep you company,’ Alex reminded him with a smile. ‘Hug him tight, and he’ll make you feel better.’

Dennis nodded, his spirits lifting slightly.

Alex gave him a pat.

‘Alright. See you tomorrow, Dennis.’

‘G-goodnight.’

‘Goodnight.’

Simon and Pyro left for their rooms as well, and finally only Alex and Isaac were left.

Isaac’s sombre brown eyes looked deeply into Alex before he spoke.

‘I was wrong about you,’ he said. ‘You’re not crazy. You’re one of the bravest people I’ve met in here.’

Alex couldn’t help but smile, and his face flushed.

‘No way…’

‘I’m serious. You’re in this hellhole with agony in your mind and you still have it in you to think we might have a chance. They look up to you, Dennis, and Simon. Pyro. Don’t ever leave them. Don’t ever lose that fight in you. I’m counting on you too.’

Alex felt warmth in his heart. He smiled.

‘I’ll do my best.’

With smiles, they parted, and Alex entered his room practically walking on air. As he lay awake in bed, he remembered the diary. Sitting up, he pulled his bedside table closer to him and picked up the pen he had placed on it alongside the diary. Opening it, he paused.

Where to start? Record the day’s events, or recount his experiences thus far? Alex supposed it wouldn’t hurt to summarise it all, at least so he could have something to reference from. The day-by-day records could follow, starting with today.

Filled with purpose, he began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fun fact: the inspiration for the screaming patient Alex and the group meet in the Male Ward comes from a similar incident described in the book 'The Locked Ward: Memoirs of a Psychiatric Orderly' by Dennis O'Donnell. One day, out of nowhere, O'Donnell is frightened half out of his wits by a patient screaming in his face (using the exact same words). 
> 
> The biggest difference between the two scenes is that, sadly, our patient might actually be telling the truth.
> 
> The book provides a fascinating insight into the life and work of a dedicated man helping often severely mentally ill individuals in various psychiatric hospitals. I would recommend it to everybody who shares the same morbid interest in such things as I do ;)


	15. Note: The Ties That Bind

After an hour of deliberation, Alex decided to write each entry entirely in _Sütterlinschrift_ , an old form of German handwriting that Alex's grandparents, his grandmother in particular, had delighted in teaching him growing up. He had learnt diligently, and though it had been a long time since he had practised, he was confident he could communicate everything just fine. It was pitch black, but with no available light source, Alex had to make do.

He would hide the pages, but there was no guarantee they wouldn’t be found. To the staff of Mount Massive, the writing would be no more than maddened scribbles. That was fine by him.

It required more concentration, but that, in a way, made writing more pleasurable. It had so much history. As he pressed the nib down to write he felt tears well up. He could see Oma and Opa, their living room, the old writing desk, the sofa where they used to sit together and watch TV. Dad would be picking him up soon... 

Rubbing his eyes, Alex took a deep breath.

He had to do this.

* * *

_1/09/2013_

[Translated from the German]

_Last night, I think I saw the Walrider. In a nightmare I was surrounded by a swarm of what looked like a mass of flies, coming for me. I woke up before it could get me. If this is the Walrider I keep hearing about, no wonder everyone’s afraid. How Father Martin can worship such a thing is beyond me._

_Poor Dennis. I don't believe for a second that he's faking. He's in the grip of a serious illness and no-one is helping him except us. Maybe that's why Dennis gravitated towards Simon, Pyro and I in the first place. He wants to get better. He wants to be happy._

* * *

Turning the page (the diary was small, the space limited) Alex continued.

* * *

_1/09/2013 [cont.]_

_I need books. I want to know more so I can help Dennis. Simon and Pyro, too. I need to talk to them more. Right now all I've got to go on is intuition. They’re my friends. I want to be a friend to them too._

_Knowledge is power. The doctors have their reports and their notes. Writing, always writing. They think they hold us in their hands, but they're wrong._

_The Warden – could he help? Who is he, and whose side is he really on? Trusting him could put us all in danger, but right now he’s the only one who gives a damn. I have to try._

_Sleep. Hopefully I won’t see that thing again. I wish I had Otto with me._

_It’s so quiet. When it’s quiet like this, I’m reminded how they’re not here. It hurts. It hurts so much._

_No, I can’t. I can’t. Think of Dennis. Think of Pyro. Think of Isaac._

_Think of Simon._

_Simon._

* * *

Putting down his pen, Alex tore out the two pages and folded them. Fumbling about in the dark, he found the small split in the left side of his mattress. Reaching in as far as his hand would go, Alex slipped the pages inside. His mind turned to the diary and the pen. Wolfram knew about the diary, but would he tell his colleagues? Would he tell Ford? Alex couldn't be sure. He would have to wait till morning. Perhaps there was a hole in the wall or the floor he could make use of. Hell, he could make a hole, if needed. 

Satisfied, Alex laid back down in bed and pulled the covers over himself. His mind was buzzing as he mulled over strategies.

Was it better to hide the diary elsewhere in the asylum, where he could find it again? If the staff came looking for a diary and found none, they would logically suppose Alex had hidden the diary and its contents somewhere else. If they managed to find it, and saw the pages missing, they had an entire asylum in which to search for them. They simply wouldn't do it. The effort to find pages written by a single patient that could be anywhere was too much. They had more important things to do with their time, whatever they were, if the Engine was anything to go by.

Of course, the pages he had hidden were still vulnerable, but he had done the best he could. He wanted the pages as near as possible, for himself. He needed to write, so he could remember the days that had gone by as something meaningful; not the haze of an extended stupor.

_Am I being too paranoid?_

_No_ , he reminded himself. _Ford used his knowledge of Simon and drove him to despair. They dragged Annapurna from his hospital bed to God knows where - an orderly, not a patient. I saw it with my own eyes. These fuckers can and will do anything. What for, I don't know._

_This is all I can do for now._

Closing his eyes, Alex pictured Simon's smiling face.


	16. Absconding

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very wordy, this one, but I wanted to get a lot of information out there to set up for the coming chapters. Hope you guys like :)

Alex passed the night peacefully, barring the occasional noise from a patient in another part of the ward. The tempestuous weather had decided to rear its ugly head once again and, as he lay awake during these intervals, Alex listened to the soft rumbling of thunder outside. He thought about Dennis, and hoped he was squeezing Otto with all his might and feeling better. Dennis may even be crying into the bear’s soft fuzz, as Alex used to do.

He hoped it helped, even if his fingers still itched for something to hold.

* * *

The next morning, Alex awoke feeling more refreshed than he had done for weeks, without the added stress of any nightmare. Despite going to bed later than usual, writing in his diary seemed to have calmed his mind. He felt he could think more clearly.

The Walrider seemed to have left him alone for one night.

Alex glanced down at his diary, which lay on the bedside table where he had left it. Was it too risky to leave it lying around? If he carried it with him all day, doctors, nurses and the rest would take note, and someone might try and take it later. But where to hide it?

There was a knock on his door.

'Come on, buddy, breakfast.'

'Coming!'

Once the orderly had left, Alex sprung into action. He managed to fit the diary into his left shoe. It would be uncomfortable to walk with, sure, but he had to do his best to act natural. His jumpsuit had no pockets, and there was no way he could walk properly with a pen in his shoe, so Alex would have to carry the pen around.

 _Someone might ask questions_ , he thought. As a precaution, Alex scribbled some ‘reminders’ on his hand: _Eat porridge. Play football. Explore courtyard. Relax._

Dressing, Alex thought about the warden. He had not seen the man in some time. In all honesty, Alex had been so wrapped up in day-to-day living that he hadn’t given the overseer much mind. It was difficult to really know for certain where the warden would be at any given time, especially as he seemed to materialise so randomly. He behaved like a spectre, appearing and disappearing at will, with little constraining him.

 _Have I become complacent?_ Alex wondered. The routine he had settled into was lulling him into a false sense of security, disturbed occasionally by untoward incidents. He couldn’t allow that to happen. This place was fucked up, and it needed to be fixed somehow. Banding together as a group – himself, Simon, Pyro and the others – was only part of the battle. Nothing would change unless they had a higher authority on their side.

Out of all the employees at Mount Massive, the warden was the only one in whom the patients could place their trust. The warden was the only one who challenged his colleagues in any meaningful capacity. It had to be him.

His wandering eye caught sight of the photographs on the bedside table, which Alex had took out days before. Pain stabbed him everywhere it could, and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.

_Dad, Achim… I’m – I’m happier now. Is that alright? I’m not forgetting you, I swear. I know… I know you’re not here. But please. I haven’t forgotten, but the others…_

Shaking his head, he took a breath. Calm down. Focus. The photographs. If he was going to be so meticulous with his notes, he should bestow the same treatment on his precious memories. That was a no-brainer. But where to hide them that would be safe? A guard had searched his bag when he first arrived, and he or someone else must have logged the contents of his bag.

_But I need them… I NEED them…_

Cursing in frustration, Alex left the room.

* * *

As usual, Alex met up with Dennis in the corridor. It lifted his spirits to see that Dennis was looked considerably more fresh-faced than he had in the past. The twitchiness that practically ruled him even when stationary had lessened quite a bit. However, on recognising Alex and smiling, Dennis carefully picked his way around the patients walking by as he approached, holding himself in such a way as to make himself small, and only relaxed again once he was by Alex’s side.

‘Morning,’ he said.

Alex smiled.

‘Morning, Dennis. You sleep alright?’

Dennis nodded.

‘Y-yeah,’ he said. ‘Thanks t-to… to the bear.’ His eyes widened as something seemed to click. ‘Otto! T-thanks to… Otto.’

Bells in Alex’s head cheered: _He remembered! Holy shit!_

‘Do you remember how you got Otto?’ Alex asked, as they moved with the flow of patients making their way to the cafeteria.

Dennis went quiet, frowning. Alex’s optimism wilted. There were still gaps in Dennis’s conscious memory, but Alex persisted. He told Dennis to wait while he quickly brought the bear to him. Once he returned, he handed Otto over.

‘It was a stormy day,’ he said, as if thinking about it himself. Dennis bit his lip, staring hard into the bear’s face, his brow furrowed in concentration. Alex had never seen this side of Dennis before; it gave a spark to the dimming flame of his hope.

‘St-stormy day…’ Dennis repeated.

‘We were talking to you. Me, Simon, Pyro.’

‘You…’

Dennis shook his head, his expression darkening.

‘It’s a stupid bear, boy,’ rumbled ‘Pa’. ‘The fuck does it matter who gave it?’

Panic rose in Alex’s gut. No, Dennis!

Dennis pursed his lips. The fingers gripping Otto were trembling.

‘I-it matters,’ he whispered. ‘Shut up!’

Alex stared at the patient in amazement. He seized his chance.

‘You went to bed early.’

‘S-sleep… early…’

‘And right before, you got Otto. Someone gave Otto to you.’

‘S-someone g-gave…s-someone gave…’ Suddenly Dennis’s eyes lit up and he gaped at Alex’s face. ‘ _You!_ ’ he cried. ‘ _You_ gave me him! _You_ did!’

Alex couldn’t remember a time he had smiled so wide. Whatever it was in Dennis’s mind keeping selective memories at bay had been bested, at least as far as the connection between Otto and Alex himself was concerned. There were far more pressing and traumatic memories still to be uncovered and addressed, but this was a huge step forward. This was something good, something Dennis could cherish forever. Of how many memories could Dennis say the same?

_Eat your heart out, Ford._

‘That’s right! That’s it, Dennis!’ Alex said, patting the patient on the shoulder. There were tears in Dennis’s eyes and, out of nowhere, the patient suddenly flung his arms around Alex’s neck. Alex happily reciprocated, blinking back tears himself.

‘Great job, Dennis,’ he said.

‘You gonna kiss huh?’

The sneer of a passing patient made Alex turn and glower. The departing patient, a gangling, pig-eyed wraith of a man whose face reminded Alex of a heavy smoker or drug addict, snickered as he went.

‘Go fuck yourself,’ he spat.

The patient only laughed.

Dennis pulled back, crestfallen, embarrassed. Alex hurt for him, and he wanted nothing more than to beat the bastard who mocked him.

‘Don’t listen to him, Dennis,’ he said. ‘It was just a hug. Nothing to be ashamed of. You were happy – that’s a good thing. Don’t let anybody tell you any different.’ He smiled. ‘OK?’

Dennis nodded, and the pair made their way to the cafeteria.

* * *

They were late again. The queue was shorter than usual, however, so their path to the food their stomachs craved as mercifully short. It was at this point that Dennis revealed he wouldn’t be eating anything, as later he would be having his ‘shock therapy’ later on that day.

‘Who is your doctor, Dennis?’ Alex asked, curious.

Dennis thought for a moment.

‘Oh, u-um… D-Doctor Ford,’ he said.

Alex’s blood ran cold. That son of a bitch had no right to be anywhere near any mentally ill patient, let alone someone like Dennis! That Ford and his methods were responsible for the worsening of Dennis’s condition whenever the procedure was performed was no surprise. Hell, it was probably deliberate.

_This place strips all the good out of you and leaves the nightmares..._

Taking hold of Dennis’s arm, he moved to the back of the line.

‘Don’t go to that treatment, Dennis,’ Alex whispered. ‘For God’s sake, hide if you have to, but don’t go to that treatment.’

Dennis’s eyes widened.

‘B-but…’

‘All that bastard does is hurt people, Dennis. He drags the worst of them out and makes them wrecks. He did it with me, he did it with Simon, and he does the same with you.’

Dennis was stunned.

‘He… he does?’

‘Don’t you remember?’

‘I-I-I d-don’t remember much o-of anything,’ Dennis whispered, beginning to tremble. ‘N-not before… o-or after…’

Ford, you bastard…

‘Dennis, believe me, I’ve seen you when you’ve come back from that therapy. Simon and Pyro have seen you, and they’ll agree. You come of it bad. Not yourself. You forget yourself, you forget other people. You get angry at everybody, you think we’re out to get you, but we’re friends. Aren’t we Dennis?’

Dennis nodded, his eyes bulging with fear.

‘I-I’ll hide. I-I-I know a good place. A-a real good place.’

‘Good.’ Alex smiled. ‘Close to the time you’re going to be taken to Ford, you run and hide. Just stay away for as long as those fuckers will bother looking for you, which I doubt will be long.’

‘O-OK.’

Alex gave Dennis a friendly pat and, as he did so, he noticed another patient joining the queue behind him. He immediately recognised the patient as Isaac. The scar encrusting Isaac’s eye was still red and sore, and the shadows under his eyes had darkened, giving his dull brown eyes a dour, penetrating stare.

Noticing him, Isaac gave a nod.

‘Hey.’

‘Hey Isaac,’ Alex said, offering a smile. ‘Come sit with us, alright?’

Isaac hesitated.

‘Alright.’

Arriving at their usual seats alongside Simon and Pyro, they found that the two had once again already finished their meals.

‘There you are!’ Pyro grumbled. It was immediately clear that he was having one of his bad days. His tone, his scowl, even his posture was weighed down by a sullenness Alex knew well by now.

‘Sorry, Dennis and I were just—’

‘A-Alex g-gave me Otto!’ Dennis blurted out, smiling proudly.

Simon and Pyro were surprised and looked at one another.

‘He’d forgotten, but he remembered today,’ Alex said, to help them.

Understanding, Simon beamed at Dennis.

‘Really? That’s great, buddy!’

Pyro managed a small smile.

Alex gave Dennis another pat on the shoulder, which brightened the patient up even more. It made him wonder if he had ever received such gestures of affection before. There was still so much about Dennis that he didn’t know.

I’m not alone on that either.

Looking down at his porridge, he frowned. It was a thin, watery slop more reminiscent of gruel than porridge. With no other option left available to him at the counter, Alex had watched the cook ladle the substance into the bowl and hoped that it tasted better than it looked. Unfortunately, on closer inspection, what should have been a homely smell of oats was replaced by a sickly odour Alex couldn’t define. He didn’t want to think about it.

He took a spoonful and gagged, barely holding the vile mixture in his mouth before forcing it down. It was foul, sour, with barely any oatmeal to taste besides water and whatever the hell else was inside.

‘Oh God!’

Pyro’s lip curled.

‘Disgusting, isn’t it?’

‘Why didn’t you warn me?’

‘Well, if you don’t want to go hungry until lunch,’ said Pyro, ‘you’ll have to bear it like the rest of us.’

‘Sorry,’ said Simon, smiling apologetically. ‘I should’ve saved you some of mine.’

Alex waved a hand, grimacing as the vile aftertaste filled his mouth.

‘It’s fine.’ Turning to Dennis, who, seeing Alex’s reaction, hadn’t dared touch his own breakfast. He smiled despite the awfulness assaulting his taste buds. ‘Let’s not be late ever again, eh?’

Dennis nodded mutely, but didn’t make any move to pick up his spoon.

‘Come on, you have to eat,’ Alex encouraged, taking another spoonful. He smiled despite the pain. ‘Just pretend it’s… something nicer.’

Simon laughed. Some patients sitting nearby turned and stared.

‘Hey, is the warden back yet?’ Alex asked after wolfing down his breakfast. The aftertaste was terrible, but at least it was all gone. The watching nurses would come and pester him otherwise. They hovered around specific patients, some even sat right there with their ward, making sure. It was no wonder patients barely spoke to one another here, even when it was a full house. Simon’s laughter had rung loudly across the cafeteria, a sound from another world.

‘No,’ Simon replied. ‘He’ll be back tomorrow though.’

Alex nodded. He could wait another day, although it was imperative that he seek the warden out as soon as possible. He needed someone to talk to about the Walrider, the Engine, everything that had happened, and what they could do about it. He had to know something.

‘What do you want him for?’ Isaac asked. Speaking for the first time, everyone stopped to listen. Even Alex had almost forgotten had had been sitting with them. His stare, on the other hand, was impossible to ignore.

‘I-I just want to talk to him… about this place,’ Alex replied, lowering his voice to a whisper. ‘About things I’ve seen.’

‘You’re wasting your time.’

Those words twisted Alex’s gut and he felt fear, which curdled into anger. No. Damn you, Isaac!

‘The warden might help in small ways,’ Isaac said, ‘but in the end, people still get taken. People still get taken to the Engine. If he could stop all this he would’ve done it a long time ago. But he hasn’t.’

Alex wanted to yell, to tell Isaac he was full of shit, that the warden would definitely do something, but he couldn’t. Isaac was right. If the warden could end all this on his own, why was it continuing, why was it getting worse?

But if the warden couldn’t help…

‘I’m going to talk to him,’ he breathed. ‘I’m going to talk to him anyway. I have to.’

Isaac sighed.

‘Don’t expect miracles. That’s all I’m saying.’

An uncomfortable silence descended on the group. There was no mood for talking anymore, and they took their respective tablets (even Dennis, for once, complied) and moved on to their group session with hardly a word passing between them.

All Alex could think about was the warden, and how he prayed he could find some hope with him. If anyone, it was with the warden. It had to be.

* * *

Once again, later Alex withheld all involvement of Dennis, Simon or the others. Part of him felt guilty, as the doctor seemed genuinely earnest, but Alex knew he was doing his best for both himself and his friends. He put his continued improvement down to the day-to-day routine he followed, his diary, and the discussions in the group sessions. In reality, Alex spoke very little in them. Earlier that day was no exception.

The presiding doctor had asked a question about his pen, but Alex had managed to assure him of his innocent intentions. The rest of the time he had concentrated on keeping Simon in check – the poor man still desperately desired assurance from the doctor present – and listening to the patient directly behind him, who whispered ‘ _Doctors and liars_ ’ under his breath for the entire session.

It had been cut short when one patient, a young man named Thomas, suddenly began bashing his head against the back of a fellow patient’s chair. Blood had gushed from the wound all over the floor, and orderlies had dragged Thomas screaming from the room.

‘Mr Kolm?’

Alex was shaken out of his thoughts by Wolfram’s words.

‘Sorry. It’s just – a patient lost it in the group session this morning.’

Wolfram nodded sombrely.

‘I see. That is saddening. I hope he recovers.’

‘Me too.’

‘Now, you haven’t mentioned anything, but I thought I’d ask: is Simon still approaching you? Have either of you spoken since the last time?’

‘No,’ Alex lied. The pang of guilt returned. He felt as if he was somehow betraying Simon, betraying all of them, by erasing them from existence in this room.

_Just like you’ve forgotten—_

_SHUT UP!_

‘Mr Kolm? Are you alright?’

Damn. Alex froze. His frustration must have slipped out.

‘Oh – um – sorry, doctor. I was just… thinking about this morning.’

The doctor nodded.

‘Completely understandable,’ he said. ‘Let’s finish early for today. I think we’ve gone through everything we need to this session. Take the rest of the day to relax.’ Wolfram smiled. ‘I am very happy to see how well you’re doing. Keep up the good work.’

‘Yes sir.’

Exiting the room, Alex made his way through a maze of corridors towards the courtyard.

* * *

The sky was a perfect blue, untarnished by even a speck of white. The midday sun shone brightly, but even it could not erase the familiar bite of winter chill in the air. Alex shivered, quickly leaving the shadow of the asylum to warm himself in the sun.

Having left his consultation early, there was no sign of Simon or Dennis. Several patients wandered about. Two patients on his left were taking turns to put a ball through a basketball hoop.

Alex kept his eyes peeled for Pyro. The older patient rarely attended their group sessions, or any session for that matter, so it was likely he would be sitting alone somewhere in the courtyard.

Even as he scanned the area, Alex felt hesitant. He was never quite sure what to say to Pyro, especially on days where his depression was particularly bad. He wanted to help him, make him feel better, but he feared any misstep that could botch his efforts. The world was not as empty as it had been, and Alex had found a reason to stay alive, thanks in part to Pyro.

Finally, Alex spotted him. He sat alone in the far corner of the fenced courtyard with his back to the asylum, staring out across the rugged, frost-bitten landscape. It was not until Alex got close that he heard Pyro’s heavy sobs, saw his trembling shoulders.

Hearing footsteps, Pyro’s head snapped around to see who it was, but relaxed once he saw Alex. Pyro’s face was wet with tears, his eyelids puffed and red, his one good eye bloodshot.

‘Thought I had more time,’ he murmured.

‘What happened?’ Alex asked, sitting down by Pyro’s side.

‘Nothing happened,’ Pyro said, wiping his eye with the back of his hand. ‘Nothing, but…’

Alex’s heart hurt. He hadn’t wanted to rule out the possibility of an incident having set off such a reaction, but the general state of Pyro’s existence – the sickness, the asylum, everything – was the primary cause, and one which Alex had little to no power to alleviate.

‘It’s this place,’ Pyro went on, his voice thickening. ‘This terrible place… and we’re never going to get out. Never.’

Alex put a firm hand on the patient’s shoulder.

‘Pyro, listen to me,’ he said. ‘If the warden can’t help us – I’m still going to ask him, but if he _really_ can’t help us – then we’ll break out. Together. We’ll—’

‘You don’t think I haven’t tried that?’ His brown eye glared at Alex. ‘You don’t think others have tried?’

Alex took his hand away. He felt a weight pressing down on his insides, a fear he knew very well.

‘No, I just…’

Anger fading from his face, Pyro sighed. He stood up.

‘There’s something you need to see.’

Alex was hesitant to follow him, partly because he worried about Simon and Dennis arriving to find him missing, but with persuasion from Pyro, he got up and walked back the way he had come. Passing briefly through the Male Ward, Pyro led him down a new route that had them exit out the back of the ward and into a sparse patch of ground where only a handful of patients wandered. They passed by small, aged buildings on either side that were nothing like the Admin block. These dark, dingy attachments, like the deeper interior of Mount Massive, were the diseased blotches behind the pristine face of the asylum.

‘Prison Block,’ said Pyro, motioning to the building on their right. ‘The violent patients are kept there. They have separate break times than the rest of us, so you’ll probably never see them. Hope it stays that way.’

He motioned to the decaying building on their left. Its reddish brick was crumbling and scarred by decades of existence in the mountain region, defiled by graffiti from many, many patients. It was older than anything Alex had ever seen, but then he had not even come close to seeing everything.

Not at all.

‘Vocational Block,’ Pyro said. ‘Basically just storage. I went in there once for an arts and crafts session. It was pretty fun – until a guy called Humphries decided to gut another patient with the kiddy scissors. You’d think they’d just ban him from the site, or ban scissors, but that incident was enough of an excuse to cancel the whole damn activity.’

Already Alex could see brick spires overlooking the grounds not unlike the twin towers that characterised the face of Mount Massive; another fenced-off courtyard, but one in which few patients trod. Rimmed by steel steps and walkways and windows that gave a 360 degree lookout around the entire complex and beyond, there were no prizes for guessing what purpose these towers fulfilled, but Pyro had taken him here for a reason.

‘Watch towers,’ he said. ‘This is the Dying Ground.’

‘Dying Ground?’

‘Officially it’s the Drying Ground, but I don’t believe that R has any business in the first word. I gave a name this place deserves. The corpses...'

Silence. A blissful respite before Pyro continued.

'Guards patrol this place,’ he went on. ‘Keep watch on everything that happens here, and that’s not including the security rooms elsewhere. Any time there’s an escape, they know. If the poor bastard hasn’t died after running into the electric fence, he’s caught within an hour. Then you never hear from him again, or if you do, the man you knew is gone.’

‘Alright, I get it!’ Alex snapped. Fear and frustration were a toxic mix, and they boiled inside him. There had to be a way! There _had_ to be!

They stood for several moments in silence, watching the towers. The winter breeze chilled them, but it was the appearance of a figure in one of the windows that got the pair to leave the courtyard and return to their usual haunt.

As expected, there were far more patients wandering about, and Simon and Isaac were sitting on the usual bench waiting for them.

Seeing the pair, Simon stood and came over, relief evident on his face. He grasped hold of Alex’s two hands in his, positively beaming.

‘Oh thank God, I was so worried!’ he said. ‘Where did you guys go?’

The joy in the patient’s voice and face was so jarring to Alex after experiencing the fear and despair of Pyro in the Dying Ground that it took a moment for him to speak.

‘Um – Pyro was just… showing me some new places.’

‘What new places?’

‘The Vocational Block, stuff like that,’ Alex replied, giving Pyro a glance. Don’t say anything you made me see just now, I swear to God!

Simon, oblivious, smiled.

‘Cool. I don’t think I’ve ever been in there. I hear it’s really old.’

‘Yeah, looked it.’

Simon released Alex’s hands, but it was only then that Alex realised that he had been holding them the whole time. He found his hands itching for the sensation of his touch. He felt his face flush, and he prayed Simon wouldn't notice.

‘Are you alright?’ Simon asked suddenly, and Alex froze, only to realise that the patient's attention was for Pyro. Simon looked concernedly at Pyro’s red-rimmed, watery eye and weary face.

‘Fine. Just… having a bad day. That’s all.’

Then Simon asked: ‘Where’s Dennis?’

Alex explained, and after the initial surprise, the group expressed relief. Honestly, Alex hadn’t expected this. He had expected anger, at least at the fact that he hadn't told them. His plan has flaws – what if Ford was aware of Dennis’s hiding places? What if the bastard was dedicated at getting his patients to endure their therapy, even if they didn’t want to? At the time, however, it was the best thing Alex could come up with himself. The ECT risked destroying all the progress Dennis had made in recent weeks, and was the equivalent of pushing the ‘reset’ button on his diseased mind.

‘I don’t blame you, kid,’ Pyro said. ‘We’ve tried to dissuade him from going through with the treatments before, but he’s never remembered the ones from before, not enough to stop him from going. It’s a handy side-effect Ford uses to his advantage.’

A small smile played on his lips.

‘But you’re different. You’ve connected with him like none of us were able to do before. Simon’s too indulgent – sorry, Simon – and I’m… well, I’m a miserable bastard.’ He chuckled, but there was no mirth in it.

‘You’re not a miserable bastard,’ Alex said. ‘We’ve all got our own problems.’

‘Hey, is that the warden?’ Simon cried.

If Alex had turned any faster he would have snapped his own neck.

‘What?’ Pyro squinted with his good eye. ‘Fuck me, it is. He’s early!’

There was no mistaking it, unless he was seeing things. The small, white-clad figure entering the courtyard was definitely the warden. He took his position by the entrance to the male ward looking out at the patients with the same poise he carried himself with in everything he did.

Exhilaration and more than a bit of anxiety bubbled up inside as he turned to his friends with a grin.

‘Sorry guys, I’ve got to talk to him.’

Without waiting for a response, certainly nothing from Isaac, Alex strode across the courtyard towards the man who _would_ _be_ their savior.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Research of mine has told me that DID patients often reveal memories that have been 'locked away' (not repressed 'horizontally', as in pushed down, but sectioned off 'vertically' - yes, it is quite confusing!) can come back to their conscious mind in the company of people they feel safe and secure with. This is what I was going for with Dennis and Alex. (They're cute together I think!)


	17. Subject: Disobedient Dennis

From: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: c.houston@murkoffcorp.us.com

Cc: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com, j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: Disobedient Dennis

Dr. Houston,

What an interesting afternoon I’ve had. For the first time, my patient Dennis has failed to show for his ECT, willing or otherwise. Always experiencing the common side-effect of short-term, and sometimes long-term, memory loss after each session, Dennis has never had the capacity to actively avoid the sessions. You don’t hide from a bogeyman you can’t remember. Even when Dennis has reacted violently to physical contact, he is one of the easier patients to overpower. A willing lamb or flailing pig, Dennis has always ridden the lightning.

So you can imagine my shock when the nurses informed me that they could find no trace of Dennis anywhere. Not his usual haunts, at least. Well, I have other patients to see, so sad to say Dennis will be missing out this time round.

What made Dennis go out of his way to hide like this, I hear you ask? His memory loss was consistent with previous sessions post-ECT. He expressed no anxiety to me about the upcoming session, just more whimpering about that flood of his, among other things.

I think you and I both know the answer, thanks in part to your observations of Alexander Kolm. As you noted, Dennis is a member of this rather unusual clique within the asylum which counts Kolm as a member. From what my nurses tell me, Kolm is responding very positively to treatment, and is getting better by the day. I'd say we underestimated Wolfram. 

At any rate, he and Dennis have formed a bond, not quite as surprising as it might seem at first. It's strong enough to compel Dennis to listen to someone other than himself for a change. 

Kolm is a bad influence. He needs to be taught a lesson.

Best,

Dr. Ford

* * *

From: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com

CC: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com, c.houston@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: RE: Disobedient Dennis

An interesting afternoon indeed. It’s the first I’ve heard of any sort of group activity among the patients. The majority of them are solitary creatures, and even those that do form groups (typically no more than three persons) they are very easily driven apart by the delusions of Wernicke and the Engine.

That such a large formation has been allowed to gather is quite an oversight on your part, Felix. If it were aiding their suitability in some way, I wouldn’t have a word to say on the matter, but it isn’t. I hope you're already working on a means to fix this problem?

Billings

* * *

From: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com 

To: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

Cc: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com, c.houston@murkoffcorp.us.com 

Subject: Re: Re: Disobedient Dennis

Don’t worry, I know what to do. 

Ford

* * *

From: j.billings@murkoffcorp.us.com

To: f.ford@murkoffcorp.us.com

CC: k.vigalando@murkoffcorp.us.com, c.houston@murkoffcorp.us.com

Subject: RE: Disobedient Dennis

Good. I suggest you hurry. Murkoff's Success Counselor is empty handed, and we can't wait for another Dr. Samul to start babbling about ghosts in the walls. We need a man with promise, we need a man with more hope than the wasted life who lays claim to the word. Wernicke can whine all he wants. Give us a good one Felix. That's all we ask.

Billings

**Author's Note:**

> Geborgenheit: [German] The feeling of security/of safety.
> 
> It was quite a challenge researching the ins and outs of admission into psychiatric facilities, various mental disorders and so on. I would like to be confident I've done enough and everything's as solid as can be, but I'm never confident with these things. If any of you notice an error, please drop me a message!
> 
> The character of the warden is the creation of the very talented artist thewarden-at-mtmassive on Tumblr, who gave me the all-clear to use her OC in this piece. Do check out her blog, it's fantastic!


End file.
